Debbie quickly learned that submission to James was not to be a matter of the few hours a week they spent together. Rather she was to learn to submit to him every minute of every day. Her submission, her giving of herself in love, was to be written on her soul. Debbie was to be trained in submission, and James had a programme to nurture and develop her. The key to this was the weekly tasks she was given. After each meeting he handed her a white envelope with instructions that it was not to be opened until she got home. Inside the envelope was a single sheet on which the task was described in his immaculate handwriting, the steps to be taken to prove satisfactory completion and the punishment prescribed for non-compliance. Debbie sometimes found herself torn between the desire to please James and the longing for the cane to come down hard on her buttocks, longing for the welts that, as much as any task, symbolised her devotion.
For her latest task he had given Debbie a rolled up poster. She was already wet as she began her task, James occupying all her thoughts. She slid the poster of the cardboard tube and unrolled it. It was an Athena poster, one like her elder brother had had on his bedroom wall. This was a black and white shot of Marlene Dietrich, chromium hair, cheekbones sculpted by shade. She climbed onto her bed and pinned it to the wall as commanded. Then she took her clothes off and placing a cushion underneath her back lay down, legs apart on the bed, facing the screen goddess, showing Marlene her cunt.
‘Marlene I offer my body to you’ she said from the script James had given her and which she had committed to memory. She held the labia apart and, as commanded, imagined Marlene taking her with a strap-on.
‘Marlene, fick mich, fuck me’ she gasped.
She was very wet now but was not allowed to come yet. She stood up, pulled the bed away from the wall, and laid cushions on the floor. She was to prepare a place of worship. She placed her cigarette packet, lighter and ashtray on the floor and pulled on her grey elbow length leather gloves.
She moved forward, kissed the poster, knelt on the carpet to kiss the floor before settling on the cushions.’ She began before, as directed, lighting a cigarette,. She inhaled deeply and throwing her head back, blew clouds of smoke upwards at the goddess. She thought of her childhood, thought about her brother the altar boy, waving the censer at Mass. She inhaled again, let the nicotine course through her. Although slightly light headed she remembered it was time to move her left hand to her clit.
As she played with herself she imagined Marlene in her bed, Marlene, the sexual predator and lover of women. The gloved hand touching her was Marlene’s not hers. She drew on the cigarette again blew the smoke upwards and said.‘Marlene ich liebe Dich, ich verehre Dich, Marlene I love you, I adore you.‘
. She was no longer Debbie. She had become, as ordered by James, Mercedes de Acosta, lover of women, lover of Marlene. When the cigarette was finished she stubbed it out and pushed four fingers of her right hand into her dilating cunt, into her fountain. This was the proof. James was due at five o’clock. The gloves must be presented smelling of Debbie, still wet if possible. Otherwise, James had written, exemplary punishment would follow, with a variety of implements. Debbie had felt a chill of fear on reading ‘rattan cane’ This was an implement she had yet to progress to. She wasn’t sure she wanted to and moved her fingers in and out as, with the left hand, she massaged her clit more and more vigorously. She was in bed with Marlene, Marlene in long gloves smelling of cocktails and cigarettes. Marlene sliding gloved fingers up her cunt, Marlene grabbing her nipples with gloved fingers and twisting them hard, Marlene hurting and pleasuring her at the same time. She came with a sigh, withdrew her left hand, before sliding in the fingers of the right.
She pulled them out and saw with satisfaction that they too were glistening. She sniffed both gloves, rubbed them around her face. James would smell her, know she had been obedient, know she had grown a little more in her submission.
She removed the gloves before leaning forward to kiss the floor and made a final act of worship. Debbie knew this was not to be the last time she would worship a woman for James.
She draped the gloves over the back of a chair and pushed the bed back to its usual place, underneath Marlene who would shortly look down on their love making with a beneficent gaze. She lay on the bed and began to play with herself again. This time she held before her James, her master in his immaculate suit, the gleaming shoes she longed to kiss. The ringing of the door bell made her start. Breathless with excitement she opened the door. As James stood in her hallway she could no longer remain on her feet. She attempted to curtsey, then fell to her knees, before placing a tender kiss on each shoe.
‘Mercedes de Acosta at your orders Sir.’