This is a story about a journey, my journey, from girlhood to womanhood. As implausible as it might seem, it’s also a story about the power I gained by submitting to the will of another. It’s a story about how I learned to understand a little more about what makes me tick (and what makes me go boom). It’s a story about a journey into a mirror; such a journey could be of one step, or a thousand, and might very well contain...

Part 2: Jeannie meets Vanessa The next morning, I awoke in my own bed to my mother calling me for breakfast. I had dreamed the craziest shit...then I shifted in the bed and became immediately aware of the welts on my bum and the itching of my shaved pussy and realized that it had been no dream! I hit the toilet then quickly pulled on some shorts and a top and slipped into house slippers and went down to eat. Dad had heade...

Part 3: New players, new game The time apart seemed like it moved like a turtle in peanut butter. Finally, however, another glorious weekend dawned where we could be together. This time, I was staying with Jack at his school. Now, a lot of schools were beginning to experiment with coed dorms. Not my school, and not Jack’s either. But, the recognition that college-age boys and girls would be, well, you know, boys and girls...

Part 4: Picking up the pieces and finding our way. Jack and I never made it out to dinner that night, we grabbed a couple of sandwiches and cokes and headed back to the dorm. We were both a little subdued, and went back into his room without saying much. I think our heads and hearts were both too full and we didn’t know exactly how to get started. A couple of times we did the silly thing where we both started to talk at o...

Part 5: Private Sessions. As we approached the shopping district where Visions in Lace was located, it suddenly dawned on me that it was getting fairly late in the afternoon. Would the store even be open? I queried Jack, and he responded, “It’s interesting that you bring that up. She actually requested that we come towards the end of the business day. As you probably noticed, she doesn’t stay open late, even on Saturdays....

Part 6: Oh, What a Night. The drive to Marguerite’s was short. She lived in a brownstone in an upscale neighborhood less than a mile from the shopping district where her store was located. She had given us the address, and told us to give our keys to the doorman who would park our car. We did so, climbed into an old-fashioned elevator, and soon were outside her door. A tuxedo-clad male servant opened the door to our ring,...

Chapter 7: Keeping the Burn Alive. Before we left Marguerite’s, we had to change back into something a little more substantial than the silk dressing gown I had on or Jack’s silk pajama bottoms. Jack had me put the beige corset on, along with the seamed taupe stockings and the amazing black patent six-plus-inch platform heels Marguerite had dressed me in on Saturday afternoon. Over this I had on my white cotton blouse and...

Part 8: Tying the Knot, and Epilogue. I think Autumn was always my favorite time in the South. The excitement of graduation and starting to work full-time was past. We’d survived another sticky hot summer, and now the cooler weather would likely stretch out through Thanksgiving and even, sometimes, Christmas, before turning ugly and gray in January or February. My mom and Jack’s mom were already buzzing about like flies w...