Sensitive Research - Discoveries 01

"So, did you get so turned on," Maggie continued, "that afterwards, you went back to your hotel room and frigged yourself?"

I was a little shocked by the blunt nature of her question. Hesitating once again, I wasn't sure if I could answer, and also wasn't sure if I wanted to continue this line of questioning with her. "Maggie!" I replied, with feigned shock in my voice, "That's very personal."

She laughed at my act. "Oh c'mon, we've known each other too long for you to play coy with me, girlfriend. So give it up."

I sighed, caving in to her demand. "If it will make you happy, yes, I did on occasion."

"And I bet they were some of the best orgasms you've ever had, given your history with men."

I was a little hurt by such a harsh categorization of my love life by her, and I didn't respond at first. Fortunately, the waitress came back with our desserts just then, so I took a few moments to dip my fork into my blueberry pie, and ate silently.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Maggie reached her right hand out and took hold of my left, squeezing it. "Hey, are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes, I guess so," I told her. "I was a little taken aback by what you said about me and men, but truthfully, you're right. You know I've never had a great sexual relationship with any of the men I've seen."

She squeezed my hand again. "I know, sweetie, I'm not trying to throw it in your face, but I worry about you. I know things weren't good with Justin" - the man I had been in a relationship with when Maggie and I were in graduate school - "and they weren't any better with. . . .oh shit, what's his name, I can't even think of it!" she said with a laugh, releasing my hand from hers.

"You mean Sam?" I helped her. Sam was the man I had been in a long-term relationship with before I went to graduate school.

"Yes, Sam," she laughed again, "sorry I couldn't remember his name."

"That's okay," I reassured her, "you never even met him."

"Right, but I know from what you've told me your physical relationship with him was no better than with Justin."

"Correct," I confirmed with a sigh, "it wasn't any better."

"So maybe this new experience has opened up some new possibilities for you?" Maggie asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, c'mon Susan. You're only 43 years old, you're not dead yet. And I know you've all but given up on finding a man, but that doesn't mean you should give up on having a satisfactory sex life."

"I know," I conceded, wondering if she was going to push me to find out more about how I reacted to the scenes I had observed.

She looked at her watch. "Oh shit, I've got to get going, I lost track of time. I've got to get back to the hotel and get dressed for the family pictures."

"No worries," I said, "I'm all done. If you're in a rush I don't mind walking home, it's a beautiful day and I could use the exercise."

"Thanks, you're a sweetheart. And we'll have a chance to continue this conversation when you come to LA, right?"

"Yes dear," I sighed again, "we will."

"Okay, great. Make sure you email me the dates you'll be coming when you nail them down so I can get them on the calendar."

She rose, and I followed her walking out of the restaurant. On the sidewalk, she gave me a hug, saying into my ear, "I'm so glad we had a chance to get caught up."

Hugging her back, I said, "Me too, hon, me too."

We parted, and I started my walk home.

*******************

As I followed her into the apartment, I glanced around at my surroundings. The entrance hall opened into a large living room with floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides. We were high up, the 20th floor, with beautiful views of the Hollywood Hills as well as west to the ocean, though it was too dark to make out the surf this late in the evening.

"Wait here," she told me, as she put her keys down on a side table and walked into the living room and around the corner. I stood still in the hallway, adhering to her command.

I continued to glance around and saw the kitchen off to the right. It looked like something out of an Architectural Digest spread, all beautiful granite and stainless steel. Off of the kitchen and adjacent to the living room was a dining area with a large, glass-topped table, big enough to seat a dozen people. A wrap-around terrace was visible outside the windows, accessible from both the living room as well as the dining area.

My initial impression was that the apartment appeared much nicer than I would have expected for someone of her station. I wondered how she could afford such a place; there was no wedding band on her finger, so I assumed she was single.

As I continued to contemplate this, I heard her footsteps returning through the living room. She rounded the corner to come face-to-face with me. I saw that she had removed her clothes, and was now wearing a silk robe, with a sash holding it wrapped around her waist. The robe went to just above the knees, and she had a pair of slippers on her feet.

She said one word. "Strip."

"Excuse me?" I asked.

The response was swift. Her left hand rose, and with an open palm, she slapped my cheek. It wasn't very hard, not hard enough to make a mark, but it was enough to startle me, and I almost lost my balance.

"I said, 'strip,' slut," she told me, "and you better start complying with what I tell you, or you're going to be sorry. Now take off your clothes."

I caught my balance and stood upright again. When I agreed to come home with her, I knew what I was getting into. We hadn't discussed anything about what would happen, at least not yet, but we both knew what was going to play out. I reached behind me and undid the clasp on my dress, and then lowered the zipper. I slipped it off of my shoulders, and then down my arms, lowered it to the ground where I stepped out of it. Not quite sure what to do with it, I looked around for somewhere to put it. When I looked forward again, I saw her with a hand outstretched toward me. I handed her the dress.

I was very self-conscious, now standing in front of her in just my panties and blouse, and my shoes. I knew to keep my arms at my side, and awaited for her next command.

"Keep going," she said, as she walked over and draped my dress over the back of the sofa in the living room. She came back and stood in front of me again, no more than three feet in front of me. I could smell once again her strong perfume, mixed with a bit of sweat from the evening. I found the combination intoxicating.

I reached behind me and undid the four hooks on my black lace bra, then slipped the straps of my lace bra off my shoulders and down my arms. I let the 40DD cups fall forward from my breasts, and I took the bra and held it out to her. She took it from me, letting it dangle from her fingers by the strap, and then nodded toward the panties.

I put my thumbs in the waistband and lowered over my ample ass and hips, and then let them drop to the ground, stepping out of them as they hit the floor. I bent down and picked them up, and handed them to her as well, standing now in just my shoes. She took them from me, and looked at them, then brought them to her nose.

"Just as I thought," she laughed, "you're such a slut I can see and smell how sodden you've already made your panties." I blushed with embarrassment, shamed by the knowledge that my body reacted that way and that she pointed it out to me. "If you think you're aroused now, you just wait and see what I do to you, my pet. Now take your shoes off." She turned and walked back to the sofa, draping my panties and bra over my dress.

As I bent at the waist to undue the straps, I could feel my breasts swinging below my torso. I undid them as quickly as I could, and stepped out of them. Picking them up, I handed them to her unexpectedly. This time, however, she did not reach for them.

"Walk over there," she said, pointing toward the sofa where my other clothes were, "and place them on the floor." I walked by her and into the living room. As I entered, I could see it was even grander than I could see from the hallway. There was a baby grand piano in the corner, and beautiful artwork on the walls there weren't occupied by the large windows. I was once again confounded by where the money came from.

I bent and put the shoes on the ground below where my clothes were draped, and as I began to straighten up, she said, "Wait." I froze.

"Bend over the back of the sofa there, placing your body over your clothes."

I wasn't sure what she was doing, but knew I could not resist her. I had come too far at this point, and knew I couldn't stop even if I wanted to. I did as she asked, standing behind the sofa, bent at the waist, my breasts now pressing against my dress and the sofa cushion.

I heard her footsteps behind me. "Spread your legs further apart," she said, her voice right behind me. I wiggled my right leg to the right, and then did the same with the left. I knew I was now in a position where my bulbous ass was well displayed to her. I could feel the wetness in my pussy gathering even further, beyond what had wetted my panties already, and knew it would not be long before drops would start a trail down my spread thighs.

I felt fingers stroking my right ass cheek, gently running up and down, in a very tender fashion. Her touch was raising goosebumps on me. She repeated the same on my left cheek, and after a few moments of this, she ran a single finger from the top of my crack down to my perineum. I internally begged her to continue further down and provide some relief to my burning pussy. But she went no further, and retraced her path upward, ending again at the top of my crack. She repeated this a few more times, each iteration with slightly more pressure. As the finger passed over my rosebud, I couldn't help but clench there, and I knew she could sense this.

I felt her bending over, putting her head near mine. "Tell me slut, have you allowed people to violate your big ass?" she whispered into my ear.

I hesitated a moment, but didn't want to risk another slap. "Y. . .y. . . yes I have," I admitted to her in a soft voice.

"I thought so, given the slut you are," she responded. "Well, I promise you, there'll be plenty more of that tonight." And with that I finally felt her place a finger in my pussy. It felt heavenly, and slipped right in given how wet I was. As quick as she penetrated me, she removed it. But before I could react, I felt the same finger at my backdoor, tracing a little circle around my rosebud, and with a quick push, felt her thrust what felt like the entire finger into my ass. I gasped.

*******************

I made the arrangements for Tara and my trip to LA for our last set of observations, and emailed the dates to Maggie. Two months later, I landed at LAX on Saturday evening, having grabbed an early flight out. Our appointments didn't start until later in the day on Monday, but Maggie had insisted that I fly in early so that we could hang out together for all of Sunday. Tara wouldn't be arriving until Monday late in the day.

Los Angeles was so spread out it would have been crazy for us to try to take cabs everywhere; the three dommes who had agreed to participate in our study were all over the area, and I knew the same would be likely of their clients we would be interviewing. So I had arranged to rent a car.

I drove to the hotel in downtown LA that we were going to be staying at. As this was our last trip, I realized I had enough money left in my project budget that we could afford two hotel rooms, so unlike our previous two field site visits, Tara and I didn't have to share a room. But I made the reservations together so that we could have adjoining rooms, to facilitate our work together. I checked in, grabbed a light bite to eat in the restaurant in the lobby, and went right to bed.

The next morning I woke up and just had a cup of coffee. I knew from past experience that I'd be eating plenty of food at Maggie and Dave's house. Maggie had said she and Dave and the kids would just be hanging out at home on Sunday, so I should just come by after I get settled. They had a beautiful house right on the beach in Santa Monica. Dave's real estate work was pretty lucrative; I knew their house must have cost them about $10 million. I knew this not because she or Dave bragged about it, but because I had checked some nearby listings after the first time I visited them there.

I threw on a summery dress that I knew would be comfortable. Maggie had said that we'd spend the afternoon at the beach, so I grabbed a bathing suit, cover up, and flip flops, and threw them into a small canvas bag I had brought along. She had said to also bring a nice outfit for the evening, in case we decided to go out, so I grabbed a dress and shoes as well, went downstairs, and got back into the car to drive to their house.

Since it was a Sunday, it was a pretty easy drive to Santa Monica. Before I could even ring the doorbell, the front door opened, and Maggie greeted me with her customary big hug and kiss on the lips.

"Twice in two months, this is so wonderful!" she exclaimed, as we pulled away from each other.

"Yes, this is a special treat," I agreed.

Just then, her two young girls came running out and threw their arms around my legs. The six year-old, Jasmine, was old enough to remember me from my last visit over a year ago. The younger one, Penelope, was too young, but was just a friendly kid who seemed to love everybody.

"Hey girls," I said, bending down and giving them a hug. "So great to see you."

"You too, Susan," they said in unison.

"Okay girls, go back to the den," Maggie said, and they ran off. She grabbed my bag out of my hand as we walked toward the back of the house facing the water.

Dave was in the kitchen preparing some food. When he heard me walk in, he stopped, wiped his hands, and came over and gave me a big hug as well. "Hey Susan, so great to see you, glad you're here. Sorry I missed you when we were there for the wedding, but I was tied up with family shit."

"No worries," I replied, "I understood. I was happy to have a little time to get caught up with Maggie."

"I'm sure you were. Hey, are you hungry? I was just working on a salad for lunch." Dave was an incredibly nice guy, especially for someone who was such a big shot in the real estate world, and who had so much money. He had been very supportive of Maggie's career, especially when she was an assistant professor and working toward earning tenure. He was there to take care of the girls, giving Maggie time to get her research started, and like me, she had earned tenure at UCLA ahead of schedule. And he was great about helping out around the house, including cooking, at which he was very good.

"Actually, I am," I told him. "I just had a coffee at the hotel."

"Good, this will be ready in a few minutes, why don't you two girls go get caught up on the last couple of months while I finish."

"Thanks," I replied. Maggie grabbed a couple of iced teas, and we walked down to their deck overlooking the beach. We sat in lounge chairs next to each other.

"How was the flight?" she asked.

"Uneventful," I replied, taking a sip of the tea, which was delicious. "Left on time, got in a few minutes early, not too bumpy."

"Glad to hear. And how have you been since I saw you last?"

"Good, busy as usual. Still working with my RA on coding the interview and observations transcripts, trying to make sense of the data we have already. There are some interesting patterns, we're finding that there are some correlations between. . ."

Maggie cut me off. "Susan, dear, I'm sure that's all very interesting, but I'm more interested in hearing about you, not your work." She reached over and took my hand in hers. "I've been worried about you."

"Why?"

"Well, after our conversation at that lunch, I've been thinking about what you told me, and I've realized how difficult this must all be for you," she explained.

Maggie was a good friend, and could read me well. Without even knowing the details of the turmoil I had been going through emotionally the last few months, she was able to intuit that this was all very challenging for me.

"Yes, it has been," I conceded. "It's given me a lot to think about, observing firsthand the sessions, and talking with the dommes and their clients."

"And never mind how turned on you got by all of it, right?"

"Yes, that has been a revelation for me," I told her. I was wrestling with just how open I could be with Maggie about what had really happened in Chicago. While she was my best friend, and I knew I could trust her to keep things confidential, I wasn't sure I could open up that much.

"I want to hear more about it," she pushed, "I want to understand exactly what went on in those sessions, and what about it turned you on so much."

But just then we heard Dave yelling down from the open door at the top of the stairs. "Lunch," he said.

"Okay, we'll be right up," Maggie yelled back.

We got up, and grabbing our ice teas, went back up the stairs. The three of us sat down at the table in their dining room, with a beautiful view overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Dave had prepared a delicious Crab Louis salad, with some nice bread and butter on the side.

"The girls joining us?" I asked.

"No, they ate already," Maggie said. "They're happily ensconced in front of the TV watching Netflix."

"Ah, the electronic babysitter," I laughed.

"Yup," Dave said laughing back at me.

As I began eating, I realized just how famished I was, and how good the food was. The three of us chatted about things, mostly hearing about how the wedding had gone, and what the girls were up to. We finished lunch, and I helped clear the table and load the dishwasher.

Maggie handed me my bag, and said, "Here, you can go in the guest room and change into your bathing suit." She pointed down the hallway.

"Thanks." I grabbed the bag from her and went into the room and closed the door. Stripping out of my clothes, I glanced at myself in the full length mirror attached to the door to the en suite bathroom connected to the guest room. I saw my large 40DD breasts in my reflection, which I thought of as my best feature. I still wished I could shed some of the 40 or so pounds that I was overweight, not to become some skinny little thing, but just to get to a weight where I could be considered "curvy," rather than "fat," which was how I was afraid most people saw me. But I'd tried different diets, and nothing seemed to work. I sighed, reached down and took the bathing suit out of my bag, and put it on. It was a one-piece, and I again looked at my reflection in the mirror. While I still didn't like all those extra pounds, all in all, I thought I looked pretty decent. The bodice on the black swimsuit was low cut enough to show off my breasts, and the rest of the suit was flattering enough to hide my tummy and accentuate my hips and ass. I threw the cover-up on over it, and went back out.

A couple of minutes later, Dave and Maggie came back out as well. Dave was wearing swim trunks and a t-shirt, and Maggie had on a gauzy cover-up, under which I could see she was wearing an orange bikini.

"Okay girls, let's go," she said, and Jasmine and Penelope came running from the den, their swimsuits already on.

The five of us walked down the stairs and onto the beach, grabbing an umbrella, some chairs, towels, and toys along the way. The girls immediately headed for the water, demonstrating the inclination of young children who have been raised at the beach. We put everything down about 10 yards from the shoreline, close enough to keep a good eye on them. I took off my cover-up, and as I did, I saw Dave watching me from the corner of my eye. It made me feel good; while I am chubby, I knew my tits looked good in the suit and I assume that was what he was looking at.