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This is the 4th part of a 12 part tale of a Lady and her stable of slaves
4. Girls Night Out
Belle fretted terribly about what she should wear that evening. Her Lady had said to dress casual, but this would be the first time she would ever be going out ‘socially’ so she had to look perfect. That also caused her some concern however. The last thing in the world she wanted to do this night was to call attention to herself. She was sure that everyone would know. True, everyone in the manor knew, but they all accepted her unconditionally for what she was. She didn’t think that most others would be so forgiving.
While Abel did all of the food and cleaning supply shopping for the manor, Belle had only been out in ‘public’ one time before, and that had been several weeks earlier. At the very beginning Edward had supplied her with a few different maid uniforms, and some functional ladies undergarments. When it became evident shortly after that she would need more than this, he gave her several catalogues to have her choose whatever other apparel she felt that she needed, which he would then order online. He made it clear to her that being the property of the Lady, the Lady would be providing for it all. Afraid to incur any significant cost for the Lady, Belle had not ordered much, and only the most inexpensive articles she could find. When the Lady eventually found this out, to Belle’s horror she insisted on taking her out on a shopping spree.
With Thomas as their driver, Lady D directed them first to a high end Lingerie store. There, after much consideration and ‘consultation’ with the petrified Belle, she selected for her a number of daring, even racy items, from frilly nightgowns, to lacy bras and panties, and even a garter belt and fishnet stockings. She then gave her enough money to pay for it all and had her take them all to the check out to personally purchase. The young salesgirl there, appearing no older than Belle, smiled and clucked approvingly as she went through and accounted each selection as Belle stood in front of her, dying a thousand deaths.
Even more stomach clenching for her was the next place that the Lady took them. It was the most popular ladies clothing store in the area. Here, not only did the Lady choose a wide variety of dresses, blouses and skirts for her, but Belle was required to try them all on. Each time she went into the dressing room she obsessed about the stories she had heard that these areas were constantly monitored by security cameras to protect against theft, and that after such observation of her she would be apprehended when she came out for her much greater crime. When this never occurred she was only slightly less frazzled as she was then forced to ‘model’ each new article of clothing under the discerning scrutiny and analysis of the saleslady and her Lady.
As harrowing as those experiences had been however, at least she now had a brand new and fairly extensive wardrobe from which to choose this evening’s wear. Yet she still went about selecting with severe trepidation. Abel was decidedly masculine and hetero. Though strongly submissive in nature he certainly had intense urges and was always sexually stimulated whenever he was utilized by any female in his natural form. But for as long as he could remember he also had occasional fervid cravings to experience being a female, especially if forced into that role by another female for her amusement and pleasure. It wasn’t that Abel thought he was a woman trapped in a man’s body. He had never entertained any thoughts or desire for any transgender procedure to actually become a woman. He was happy being a man. It was just that at times he had the overwhelming obsession to be, and be used as a woman. But only by another woman.
He had lived his life so far believing that he was some kind of pervert, and had only dabbled at the edges of his fantasies in strict solitude. But dressing up in women’s attire alone in the privacy of his own room did little to satisfy his real hunger, even as it still fueled his constant fear of discovery and continued self disgust. His cyber conversations with Edward had begun to help him see that he wasn’t sick or twisted, but that he just had desires different from the norm, desires that would never hurt anyone even as they seemed to him impossible to attain. He continued to believe though that many if not most people, if they knew, would still regard with disdain.
But the Lady had changed all of that. Abel had little doubt that Edward had hinted to her beforehand about his predilections, but from the first she had gazed into his heart and saw that there were two. And she demanded from the very outset to have and use both. Abel would always continue to be, but she had helped to create Belle, and continued to fashion her into what she wanted her to become. Abel and Belle weren’t split personalities. They knew, understood, and were always aware of each other. But they were separate, and the Lady insisted that they remain so at all times, so as to better for her to enjoy their individual pleasures. This had not only allowed Belle to grow, but had given Abel the time and chance to begin to accept. And even to come to approve.
Still, the two were not equal. Abel could and did exist and survive in the outside world, while Belle was convinced that she could not, and wouldn’t want to. But the Lady apparently had other ideas, and Belle had no choice but to submit to the Lady’s will. She would be and do whatever the Lady, her creator and owner, desired, whatever the cost.
She finally selected her ensemble for the evening. A rose colored satin blouse with a slight ruffle in front, accompanied by a burgundy colored skirt that went down below her knees to just cover the dark suede, calf high boots with two inch heels that were among the number of different footwear that the Lady had purchased for her at the shoe store that had been the last stop on their shopping adventure. Underneath she made sure to wear the lacy black panties, and a sheer, almost see through black bra, hoping that maybe, when this night ended ...
She then spent over a half hour combing and brushing out her shoulder length blonde hair so that as perfectly as possible it framed her face, to which she meticulously applied makeup as subtly as she could. The final touch was a lovely red embroidered pashima which she hung delicately over her shoulders.
Convinced that she would never pass muster or her Lady’s approval, but knowing that it would be unforgivable to be late, Belle then forced herself out to the front of the manor where Thomas was waiting by the side of the car. He greeted her with a low admiring whistle as she approached. She dipped her head in embarrassment, but she really did appreciate it. She knew that he was in no way mocking. Thomas, indeed all of the slaves, had been fully supportive of her, and of each other, every step of the way, which helped to make their toil and the many ordeals encountered in their service to the Lady so much more bearable and fulfilling.
A half an hour later, at twenty after six, Deanna stepped out of the front door of the manor which Edward had opened for her. She was dressed in a gray shirt with matching gray pants and wearing black flats. Her normally flowing hair was pulled backward from the front and then bound up in a bun in the back, and it didn’t appear that she was wearing any makeup at all. Both Abel and Belle had always thought of their Lady’s appearance as stunning, but this night, though elegant, it was far more austere, even severe. It was almost as if, Belle thought nervously, she wanted someone else to stand out this night.
Thomas bowed his head down and up as Belle curtsied and they both simultaneously greeted her with “My Lady.” Deanna nodded to Thomas, and then turned her attention to Belle. “You look QUITE fetching, Belle.” she said smiling. “I strongly suspect you’re going to turn a lot of heads tonight.”
Belle’s face became beet red and remained so as Thomas opened the back door of the car for the Lady and then Belle to enter. Once they were settled in and Thomas had assumed his place in the driver’s seat, Deanna turned and again smiled toward Belle. “This is supposed to be a fun girls’ outing for us tonight Belle, so I don’t think it fits for you to be referring to my as your ‘Lady’. For this evening just call me EL ... for Lady”
“Yes My Lady.” Belle answered, then shrank back as, though still smiling, the Lady’s eyes narrowed. “I mean, EL.” she hurried to correct.
Deanna’s eyes softened, “Good.” She then turned to Thomas and leaned forward to hand him a slip of paper.
“This is the name and address where we’re going tonight Thomas. Put it in the GPS and let’s get moving.”
“Yes, My Lady.” he responded as he hastened to comply.
The place, still unrevealed to Belle, that Deanna had selected for their evening out was a dinner club and bar that catered exclusively to those of the lesbian persuasion. Though open to the public, its advertisements on the web strongly discouraged the attendance of men, even gay men. All women were welcome, but it was meant primarily to be a place where followers of Lesbos, either as singles, in pairs, or in groups, could gather socially, comfortably and enjoyably with those of their own orientation. While neither the Lady nor Belle were of that type, Belle being even dramatically less so, Deanna had two reasons for choosing this establishment. The first was that she wanted to have some direct observation and experience of such a place for a scene she was planning to include in her latest novel. More important though was that while she had no real desire for their true natures to be exposed, she did want to savor the thrill in herself, and the apprehension in Belle, of the ongoing danger of potential discovery as the night progressed.
The club was located in one of the larger suburban towns just outside of the main city. It was about a forty minute drive from the manor, and during the trip there Deanna chatted amiably throughout on all manner of topics, to which it didn’t appear to concern her that Belle’s responses were persistently quiet and short. Belle very much prayed that this remained the pattern for the evening.. Though she had tried her very best to look the part, she knew that her voice was much lower than would be expected, and which she would try to mask by speaking very softly if forced to say anything to anyone else. Far better, she concluded hopefully, for her to just be seen and not heard.
Once the GPS got them successfully to their destination, Thomas parked in front and jumped out to open the car door for his Lady. Belle slid out after. Deanna handed him a fifty dollar bill.
“Go get something to eat Thomas, and then come back right away and wait for us in the car.”
“Yes, My Lady. Thank you, My Lady.” he replied. Deanna then twined her arm with Belle’s and walked her into the club.
It didn’t take long for Belle to notice that everyone inside was female. The club was crowded, particularly around the long bar in the front. After a few moments a hostess arrived and asked them their pleasure and Deanna indicated that they would like a table for two for dinner, near the small stage in back if possible. The hostess checked, noted that a table was available, and then led them past the bar back to it.
As she walked to the table Belle felt that every eye in the club was on her, and as a first time very attractive new patron, many actually were. Once they were seated and they began scanning the menus given them, she somewhat furtively spied the surroundings. There were women of all ages, many in pairs at the smaller tables enjoying a quiet dinner, although there were also a number of larger tables with larger groups. There was also a fair collection of singles, most of them clustered around the bar, doing what singles do in such a setting in any type of club. Heart in her stomach, Belle now fully understood though just what type of club THIS was, and how she was not only one, but a double imposter.
A young waitress come to the table to take their order. Her smiling attention lingered on Belle for several long moments before she turned to Deanna, order pad in hand.
“Why don’t you order for us, Belle.” Deanna spoke. “I know you know what I like.”
Belle’s head jolted as if struck, before the waitress shifted her attention back her friendly smile widening even more. Belle pointed her face down toward the menu desperately trying to decide how to safely proceed.
“Miss?” The waitress politely inquired after a minute.
Her face still directed toward the menu Belle struggled forth. “Um ... We’ll both have the, um, French onion soup,” she began, and couldn’t help but glance up to see the waitress’ smile become quizzical. She started to panic.
“You have to speak louder, Belle. She can’t hear you.” Deanna informed.
Belle swallowed hard and then rushed to have this over with as rapidly as possible. “Ah ... two onion soups and ah ... we’ll ah ... both have the salmon special.”
“What salad dressings would you both like with your salads?”
In her current state Belle hadn’t even considered this. “I don’t ... ah ... what kind do you ... ah ... I’ll have the House and the La ... I mean EL ... ah, will have ... um ... the vinaigrette.” Her insides were churning. She knew she was making a complete mess of this. The waitress had to know.
“What would you both like to drink?” the waitress continued.
Belle was now at a total loss. She sat there paralyzed, her mind a blank.
“I think we’ll both have a glass of Chardonnay.” Deanna came to the rescue after the prolonged pause. If Belle could have crawled down to kiss her Lady’s feet in profound thanks at that moment, she would have.
“Very good.” the waitress proclaimed, casting one more smiling glance at Belle as she moved away. Although still somewhat shaken, Belle couldn’t help but be inwardly ecstatic that the waitress had seemed taken with her.
The various courses of dinner went by in a blur for Belle. Deanna kept up a steady stream of small talk to which Belle tried to respond, in as soft a voice as possible, to at least try to keep up some part of her end of the conversation. As the evening wore on they had attracted a fair amount of notice. Dressed as she was Deanna clearly appeared older than her actual years, more so in ready comparison to her much younger companion. Some of the other patrons, mostly from other pairs sitting at nearby tables, wondered if she was a Cougar on the prowl. Others speculated to themselves that the younger very pretty one might even be a trophy mate. A number more, mostly singles on the lookout, secretly hoped that Belle was on a one night stand, and might return unaccompanied sometime in the future.
Saturday was Karioke night at the club, which Deanna had noted on the website. At nine o’clock a club manager took to the stage where the Karioke machine and monitor was located and announced that the opportunity to perform was now open. This obviously was a very popular club event, as immediately a large number of participants rushed up to get on line, and the entertainment began.
The sweep of selections that followed was quite wide, ranging, among many others, from Cher to Madonna up to Lady GaGa. One singer even did a very creditable rendition of a torch song by Billie Holliday. The performances ran the gamut from excellent to enjoyable to funny, to a few that just dissolved into embarrassed giggles. A group of three did their own well choreographed and hilarious version of ‘Boogie Woogie Bugle Girl From Company B’, and another threesome brought the house down with an apparently expected and greatly anticipated version of Aretha Franklin’s ‘RESPECT’.
As the cheering and stomping finally subsided after that performance, the line of volunteers began to thin. Deanna turned to Belle.
“Go up and sing a song for me, Belle.” she said pleasantly.
Belle gasped. Her worst nightmare. How could the Lady even think?
“My Lady ... Please ...” she pleaded.
“Belle.” Deanna responded sharply.
There could be no mistaking the command in the Lady’s voice. Trembling both inside and out, Belle stood up woodenly and numbly made her way over to the end of the now much shorter line.
Belle’s brain was in a whirl. How could she do this? She was sure that everyone would Hear, and then they would See. As she was only two performers away she just couldn’t find any way to escape.
But the Lady ... her Lady ... had ordered her to sing ... to sing a song ... for Her. And a song did come to mind. A song she loved, and sang to herself often when doing her chores. A song whose lyrics she had changed in her mind to reflect her new life. A song whose female artist also had a low, throaty voice, so maybe, just maybe, there was a chance.
Clinging to this desperate hope as her turn came up she approached the monitor and microphone and told the female emcee her choice.
“Tina Turner’s ‘Private Dancer’.”
The emcee nodded and cued it up. The lights dimmed and the music began to play ... ominously. The words began to form on the monitor, but Belle didn’t need to look. She knew her own markedly different words and meaning by heart, and drawing a deep breath she took her plunge.
Well we all came from dark places
And none of us were the same
You didn’t look at our faces
You didn’t ask for our names
But you knew we were human
That we had a role to play
You keep your mind on our purpose
Filling our lives every day
Then the chorus.
I’m your Private Dancer
A Dancer for nothing
I do what you want me to do
I’m your Private Dancer
A Dancer for all things
I’ll always be there for you
I don’t need a million dollars
Just the chance to continue to be
Someone who has a reason
To be part of your family
We all came from dark places
And none of us were the same
You keep your mind on our purpose
Filling our lives every day
We’re your Private Dancers
Dancers for nothing
We’ll do what you want us to do
Your Private Dancers
Dancers for all things
We’ll always be there for you
All inhibitions gone she now finished with one last full throated chorus, her attention riveted on the table where her Lady sat.
I’m your Private Dancer
A Dancer for nothing
I’ll do what you want me to do
A Private Dancer
Dancer for all things
I’ll always be there for you
The music ended. A few brief moments of silence, and then genuine applause. Anyone in the club who had previously harbored any before now knew absolutely without any doubts, to whom Belle belonged.
She made her way back to the table. Deanna nodded, a very small smile on her lips, but her eyes distant. They sat through the next singer’s song and then the Lady indicated it was time to go. She paid the bill, stood up, and, with Belle following closely behind, left the club.
Waiting vigilantly for them all these hours in the car, Thomas rushed out as they returned. He opened the back door for Deanna who got in without any acknowledgment, with Belle then going in from the other side. When Thomas returned to the driver’s seat Deanna simply said “Home.”
They rode the entire way in silence, Deanna gazing vacantly out the side window. Belle, who had initially been exhilarated that she had done all of her Lady’s bidding and had not been exposed, now feared that she had somehow failed her. The entire night, from beginning to now had had many moments of sheer terror for her, but many of extreme excitement as well. She had been seen, heard ... and accepted as Belle, before the most difficult of possible audiences.
Before the evening had begun she had even had secret hopes that if somehow she did successfully survive, at the end of the night her Lady might invite her up to her bedroom to provide more intimate service, for the very first time ever as Belle. All prior summons for such activities had been for Abel, who had always performed enthusiastically. But Belle yearned to be used so as herself, and though she knew she had no right to expect, she couldn’t help but pray that this night might be such a night.
As they arrived back at the manor, and Deanna departed through the opened car door, she was greeted at the opened front door by the waiting Edward. She walked into the foyer, and then turned to face the trailing Belle.
“I had a delightful time tonight, Belle. And I really did enjoy your song. But I find myself very tired now, so I want to retire.” She turned back to Edward. “There’s no need to attend me tonight, Edward. I can take care of myself. I think I’ll sleep a little later tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock.”
“As you wish, My Lady.”
With that, Deanna nodded to them both and went up the stairs, leaving Edward perplexed, and Belle’s dream deflated.
As she finally slipped into her bed, Deanna reflected once again on the evening’s events. She had indeed been proud of Belle, and she knew that Belle ... and all of her slaves, were totally devoted to her ... as slaves to their Mistress. It couldn’t ... and shouldn’t ... be anything more than that. But as she drifted off to an unsettled sleep she continued to wonder, as she had for the entire trip home ...
Could there ever be a true Private Dancer?
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