Perfect Slave (17 page)

‘Good afternoon, ladies,' a frock-coated maitre d' said, standing by a lectern with a fat reservations book.

‘Mr Hawksworth,' Laurie said.

Andrea's pulse leapt as she heard his name. She was being taken to him after all.

‘Of course. This way please.' The maitre d' turned and led the way across the large and elegant restaurant. The tables were covered with pink tablecloths, and laid with sparkling silver and crystal glasses, each provided with a small vase of roses. On the plain cream walls large oil paintings depicted scenes from country life, or stern portraits of stiff lords and ladies in their finery. There was a huge fireplace where, no doubt due to the good spring weather, burning logs had been replaced by a bowl of dried flowers.

As they walked Andrea caught sight of herself in a large gilt mirror. She hardly recognised herself. Betty had put heavy mascara on her eyelashes and a much heavier eye-shadow than she normally used. The colours were different, too; a pink tinge to everything, rather than the subtle blues she preferred. And her hair was different; much tighter than when she pinned it up.

Andrea spotted Hawksworth at a corner table, between two windows with a view out to the carefully manicured garden and the parkland beyond. He got to his feet as they approached.

‘My dear, how nice to see you.' He took Andrea's hand and kissed the white leather glove. ‘Thank you, Laurie, that will be all.' Laurie nodded and walked away. ‘Please, sit down. What can I get you to drink?'

The maitre d' summoned a passing waiter to draw a chair out from the table, and Andrea sat down. The maitre d' hovered. Andrea was so surprised at all this she wasn't sure what she should say.

‘A glass of champagne, perhaps,' Hawksworth suggested.

‘Yes, thank you, mast...' she was just about to say master, but stopped herself. Surely he wouldn't want her to use that form of address in a public place?

‘Champagne for my guest, please Ernesto.'

‘Certainly, sir.' The maitre d' left them alone.

‘You are looking quite beautiful, my dear,' Hawksworth said.

‘Thank you...' she looked around; there was no one in earshot, ‘...master.'

He chuckled. ‘How discreet. But you can drop the formalities here,' he said.

‘Thank you, mast...' It had become a reflex and she found it hard to get out of the habit.

‘In fact I would prefer it if we spoke normally. Do you understand?'

‘I think so.'

‘Good.'

A waiter brought a glass of champagne on a silver tray and set it down in front of her.

‘Laurie is a beautiful woman, isn't she?' He raised his glass of malt whisky and touched it against her champagne. ‘What did she do with you?'

Andrea hesitated.

‘It's all right. She had my permission to do whatever she thought fit. Laurie was a slave once. I told you that didn't I? She thought that was what she wanted. She knew she was missing something sexually and she didn't know what it was. She thought being a slave would be the answer for her. Interestingly enough, it was quite the opposite of what she needed. Of course she hadn't discovered she was more attracted to women than men, either. When she did she was very grateful. Now she can be quite uncompromising, which is ideal in most circumstances.'

Another waiter arrived with two large menus bound in thick leather. He opened one and handed it to Andrea.

‘So what did she do with you?' Hawksworth repeated.

The waiter moved away, but not far, and Andrea was sure he could still hear their conversation. She lowered her voice. ‘She took me to her room... and made me...'

‘Go on,' Hawksworth encouraged. ‘I'm interested in the details, Andrea. Were you naked?'

She thought it was the first time he'd used her name. It sounded wonderful on his lips.

‘Yes. She has a bed with tall posts.'

‘I know.'

‘She tied me to it.'

‘With your arms and legs spread apart?' The tone of Hawksworth's voice increased a semitone. She noticed he had a hand in his lap under the table, and was rubbing the front of his trousers.

‘Yes.'

‘Then what?'

The waiter seemed to edge closer, his head looking away but his ear turned towards them.

Andrea looked at him, trying to indicate to Hawksworth that he was there. But her master took no notice. He sipped his drink and stared at her intently.

‘She had a dildo. It had a harness. She strapped it on me.'

‘Sounds interesting. I wish I'd been there. Go on. Was she naked too?' Clearly all the details were exciting Hawksworth. His eyes were sparkling and he sounded almost breathless.

‘Yes. Well, she had a suspender belt and stockings.'

‘And?'

‘She knelt on the bed, and Julia was there too.'

‘Good. Good.'

‘She wanted Julia to whip me. She got hold of the dildo and put it in her...'

‘Pussy?' he suggested. The word sounded strange in his cultured tones.

‘Yes. Then Julia began to whip me.'

Suddenly Hawksworth lent back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling, his eyes glazed, as if he were turning the scene through in his mind.

‘And you came?'

‘Yes, master.' The word slipped out, but he appeared not to notice. She realised that might not be a wise confession. Laurie hadn't given her permission.

‘Mmm...' His eyes closed and his body shuddered.

After a moment he sat forward again. ‘Let's order,' he said, raising his hand. The maitre d' appeared instantly.

Hawksworth ordered smoked salmon and grilled Dover sole for them both, then summoned the wine waiter to bring a bottle of Chablis.

He leant forward and put his hand on her knee. His touch made her quiver.

‘Open your legs,' he said, exactly as a waiter arrived to offer them bread.

Andrea obeyed, declining the waiter's offer. She saw him give her a strange look and glance at Hawksworth's hand under the table. It was only partially covered by the pink tablecloth.

Hawksworth inched his way up her leg. The skirt was too tight to allow her to do more than spread her legs a little apart, but he worked his way up to the top of her stocking.

‘So deliciously smooth,' he said, the tips of his fingers caressing the top of her thigh.

A bevy of waiter's came with the first course, putting the salmon down in front of them and serving buttered brown bread, but Hawksworth's hand remained where it was.

The waiters dispersed. Hawksworth's hand crept higher. Andrea could feel it against the silk gusset of the teddy. The material had folded itself into her labia. She knew the gusset was wet. After what Laurie had made her do in the car it was not surprising.

‘Lovely,' Hawksworth said softly, his finger following the line of the material up to her clit.

‘Your wine, sir,' the sommelier said, pouring half an inch of the Chablis into a crystal glass. Hawksworth picked it up with his free hand and sipped it.

‘Excellent,' he said.

The wine waiter too was looking at Andrea. She wasn't sure whether his expression registered disgust or excitement. He walked away.

Hawksworth hooked his finger under the gusset of the teddy and pulled it outward. Then his index finger pressed between her labia and brushed against her clit. Andrea gasped involuntarily.

The couple at the next table turned to see what had caused the exclamation. Fortunately from their angle they could not see where Hawksworth's hand was.

‘Oh, master,' she whispered. He had never touched her so intimately before. After the last week her need for him had built to such a level that she thought if he continued she would come. She felt her whole body tingling, her clitoris on fire.

Slowly he moved his finger from side to side. She whimpered, holding onto the edge of the table, her fingernails making impressions in the thick linen. He was leaning forward with his other elbow on the table, his face only inches from hers now, gazing straight into her eyes, hungry to see her reaction. She gazed back, lost in those eyes, her sex convulsing every time he moved his finger. She was coming but she knew that was not allowed.

She tried to distract herself. She picked up her glass of wine but her hand was shaking so much she had to put it down again.

‘I give you permission,' he said. His finger pressed her clitoris, trapping the throbbing nerves. She looked straight into his eyes, feeding off the pleasure and excitement she saw there. This was humiliating, being made to come in the middle of a restaurant while people bustled around her, but it was incredibly exciting too. She couldn't keep her eyes open any longer and screwed them tight as the wave of her orgasm erupted through her body. She felt herself rocking back in the chair.

‘Oh God,' she shuddered.

Hawksworth withdrew his finger, then settled the gusset of the teddy back where it had been. This produced another wave of bliss as the wet silk rubbed against her clit. Andrea moaned again.

‘Is everything all right, Mr Hawksworth?' The maitre d' had returned.

‘Everything's fine, Ernesto. Could you bring me another napkin?'

‘Certainly, sir.'

Hawksworth was wiping his hand on the pink napkin in his lap. A waiter took it and replaced it with a new one. ‘Are you all right?' he asked Andrea solicitously.

‘I'm not sure. My body's still floating.'

‘Eat something,' he said, spearing a piece of salmon with his fork.

‘Yes.' But at the moment Andrea could do nothing. It had all been so sudden and totally unexpected.

‘Charles, how delightful.'

A short but slender and very elegant woman had walked over to their table. She was about forty with an attractive face, her cheekbones high and her nose straight. She had piercing green eyes and short auburn hair. Her jersey dress was yellow and clinging, with a V-neck and a knee-length skirt.

She extended her hand, so Hawksworth got to his feet and kissed it.

‘Georgina, how are you?' he said.

‘I'm as randy as hell if you want the truth,' she said. Her eyes were looking at Andrea.

The couple at the next table looked around to see who had made the remark.

‘What about Miles?'

‘You know Miles. He needs a lot of encouragement. She's pretty.'

‘She's not trained. Why don't you come to the manor? I'm sure we could arrange something to suit Miles' tastes.'

‘She would suit his tastes,' she said.

‘She's not trained.'

‘Doesn't matter. We'd obey the rules.'

‘As long as you do. And I want her back tonight. By ten at the latest.'

‘Promise. By ten at the latest. Come on, sweetie, you're coming for a ride.'

‘She hasn't eaten yet.'

‘We'll feed her,' Georgina said, with a huge smile.

The master glanced at Andrea. ‘Obey her,' he said, as casually as if he were ordering another bottle of wine.

 

 

 

Georgina's fingers bit into Andrea's upper arm like talons, guiding her through the busy restaurant. The maitre d' stood aside as they reached the exit, his eyes watching Andrea's every step, his expression clearly puzzled.

As they got outside the main entrance Andrea saw a pack of drivers standing by six or seven large limousines, parked at the front of the car park. Georgina gestured to one of them, who immediately hurried to a claret-coloured Rolls Royce. Moments later the luxury car was crunching gravel outside the front entrance and the chauffeur walked majestically around to open the passenger door.

‘Sorry, madam,' he said, ‘I thought you were staying for lunch.'

‘Change of plan, Freddie,' Georgina said, guiding Andrea into the car.

Andrea's emotions were reeling. After a moment of real intimacy with her master, when he'd touched her physically in a way he'd not done before, he abandoned her apparently without the slightest qualm, barely giving her a second glance as Georgina pulled her to her feet. As she looked back at him as they left the restaurant he was busy eating his lunch, clearly not giving the matter a second thought.

But she knew she mustn't dwell on that. She was his slave, after all. For all she knew this was just another carefully rehearsed test, and Georgina's arrival wasn't as unexpected as it appeared. Whether that was the case or not she determined that she must not fail him. He'd told her to obey and that's what she would do, no matter how testing that might be. She wanted the woman to report to him that she'd done everything asked of her, no matter what it was.

The interior of the Rolls, like the interior of the Mercedes, smelled strongly of leather. The back seat was deeply padded, the floor covered with a luxurious carpet. Unlike the Mercedes, however, the windows were not opaque glass. Nor was there any glass divider between the driver and the passengers.

As the car drove off Georgina turned to Andrea. ‘How long have you been with Charles?'

Andrea thought for a moment. It was difficult to keep track of time. It felt like she'd been at the manor for a lifetime. ‘Two or three weeks.'

‘You address me as mistress,' she snapped, her eyes cold and hard.

‘Yes, mistress.'

‘Take your jacket off; let's see what we've got here. And kneel on the floor.'

Andrea knelt on the soft carpet and slipped off the jacket.

Georgina lent forward and examined her breasts closely. ‘Now the blouse.'

Andrea pulled the blouse out from her skirt and took it off.

‘What's that, a slip or a teddy?'

‘A teddy, mistress.'

‘Slip it off your shoulders and then take your bra off. I want to see your breasts.

She extracted her arms from the satin shoulder straps and pulled it down to her waist. Reaching behind her back she unclipped her bra, relieved, with the clear glass in the windows, to be travelling through the countryside not a town. Her breasts quivered as the bra cups fell away.

‘Impressive,' Georgina said, picking up her left breast by the nipple and pulling it this way and that. ‘Turn so Freddie can see.'

Again Andrea obeyed. She saw the chauffeur's eyes examining her in the rear-view mirror. He was young, with blue eyes and a square jaw. It looked like his nose had been broken at some point in the past.

‘What do you think?'

‘Nice,' he said, with no particular conviction.

‘Freddie's not really into big tits.' Georgina pulled Andrea around again. ‘But my husband is. Are they sensitive?' Georgina had long fingernails, which she buried into Andrea's right nipple.

‘Yes, mistress,' Andrea gasped, and as she let go Andrea saw the nails had left crescent shapes in the puckered flesh.

‘Good. Take your skirt off.'

Andrea reached behind her back to the short zip. She undid it, then sat up on her haunches so she could pull the skirt down to her thighs. If she wasn't sure what she was feeling when she got into the car, she certainly felt no such dilemma now. It appeared that as long as she was treated like a slave, as long as she were debased and made to feel totally subservient, her body responded with unadulterated excitement.

She wondered if that was why her master had agreed to let her go. It would teach her a valuable lesson. No matter who was in charge of her, the feelings and emotions her total submission generated were the same. What she felt for Hawksworth, the affect he'd had on her from the moment she first saw him, allowed her to be honest about her sexual needs. He recognised something in her and had the means to satisfy it. But now she was beginning to realise that, though she would always want and desire him to be her master, her needs were not specific to him. She had taken an instant dislike to Georgina, but even that did not affect the way she responded to her commands.

Andrea rocked back onto her bottom and wriggled the skirt down her legs.

‘And the teddy,' Georgina said.

The white silk garment was banded around her waist. Andrea slipped it off, leaving her naked but for the gloves, suspender belt, stockings and high-heels.

‘Hold your hands out in front of you. Thumbs up. You can keep the gloves on.'

Georgina had a yellow handbag, almost the same colour as the dress. She searched inside it and extracted a pair of miniature metal cuffs, which she closed around Andrea's leather-covered thumbs, effectively binding them together.

The car turned off the main road and was heading down a country lane into a small village. There was a roundabout by the village green, and they slowed to a halt as two cars swung by from the right. Andrea found herself staring straight into the eyes of a young cyclist who had pulled up alongside them. He was fresh-faced and blushed as he eyed Andrea's body.

The Rolls pulled away. A few minutes later it slowed again and pulled into the tarmac driveway of an impressive country house, a beech hedge surrounding the whole property. The driveway was short and the car rolled up to the front door.

‘Take her around the back, Freddie. I'll go and get Miles.'

‘Yes, madam,' Freddie said.

Georgina got out of the car, which immediately pulled away. It followed the drive around the back of the house and stopped by a block of garages.

The chauffeur opened the passenger door. ‘Out,' he said.

Andrea climbed out of the car. Freddie took her by the arm and led her across to the garages. The doors were open and a red Ferrari was parked inside. They walked past it to a door in the back, which Freddie unlocked with a key. ‘In here.'

The room beyond was tall and narrow. It was clean but sparse, with white walls and a stripped wooden floor. It had no windows and was lit by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. A wooden frame about the size of a double bed in the middle of the floor and a large pine chest of drawers was the only furniture.

Freddie closed the door. ‘Are you really into all this?'

‘Yes,' Andrea said simply, because it was true.

‘You must be bleedin' mad,' he said, slipping into a cockney accent. ‘Come over here.'

He walked to the far side of the room. There was a single metal ring set in the wall about seven feet up. A rope hung down from it. Freddie took hold of her hands, pulled them up above her head and tied them to the rope so she was stretched up almost on tiptoe, her naked breasts pressed against the wall.

‘Nice arse,' he said. He was still wearing his driving gloves. He caressed her buttocks roughly. ‘Have fun.'

He started to walk across the room as Georgina entered. ‘Not going, are you Freddie?'

‘You know I'm not into all this stuff.'

‘So straight, aren't you? It's a pity.' Georgina ran a hand up his forearm and gripped his upper arm tightly, blowing a kiss into his face.

The chauffeur smiled. ‘Each to his own,' he said. He walked out of the door, closing it behind him.

Georgina came up behind Andrea. Her hand traced over her buttocks, then pushed down between them. Her finger prodded into her vagina.

‘Very juicy,' she said. It was. What happened in the car had seen to that. Her nipples were also so hard they felt like pebbles.

She walked over to the chest of drawers and opened the bottom drawer. Andrea twisted her head around and saw her taking out a long leather tawse, its tongue split into three. She slapped it against her open palm.

‘We can't afford slaves of our own. Much too expensive. But Hawksworth can sometimes be very generous.'

The door opened. A thin, gaunt man in a white cotton robe walked in. He had tousled brown hair and a long face with a lantern jaw.

‘Well, she's a pretty one,' he said, staring at Andrea's naked body. ‘How long do we have her for?'

‘Charles wants her back tonight. He was very insistent.'

Andrea realised that was true. She hadn't thought of that. Did it mean Hawksworth had something in mind for her?

‘Lovely tight arse,' he said.

‘I was just going to warm it up a bit.'

‘Good idea. Give me one of those. We'll take it in turns.'

Georgina took another tawse from the drawer and handed it to her husband.

‘Shall we tie her legs?' he asked.

‘No, let's watch her wriggle.'

Georgina put her tawse down on the top of the chest of drawers, then pulled the jersey dress over her head. She was wearing beige French knickers inset with lace, and a pair of flesh-coloured hold-up stockings, but no bra. Her skin was evenly tanned. She picked the tawse up again and advanced towards her prey.

‘She hasn't been trained,' she told her husband.

‘Really? Does she know how to respond properly?' He raised the tawse and lashed it down against Andrea's left buttock.

‘Thank you, sir,' she said, hoping that was the response he expected. The pain from the tawse was quite different from the whip, less intense but over a much broader area.

‘Apparently she does,' Georgina said. She lashed her tawse down on Andrea's right buttock.

‘Thank you, mistress.'

‘That's enough,' the man said. He raised the tawse again and cut it down powerfully. Instinctively Andrea tried to squirm out of the way, but as she moved to the right Georgina caught her full across the bottom with another vicious stroke.

‘Keep still,' the woman ordered.

The blows fell thick and fast, one after the other, the flesh of Andrea's buttocks trembling, the skin soon a bright red. Despite Georgina's injunction Andrea found it impossible not to squirm against the wall, her breasts rubbing against the plaster and her arse on fire. She lost count of the number of strokes they gave her, but she was sure there wasn't a single part of her bottom they hadn't thrashed. Several strokes fell on her upper thighs too, the tip of the tawse coiling inward to lash the delicate flesh of her labia. But any pain she felt had long turned to strong, breathless pleasure.

‘That's enough,' Miles said.

‘Nice and red.' Georgina's hand caressed the welted flesh. It felt deliciously cool and Andrea moaned as it soothed her scorched arse.

‘Turn her round.'

Miles stripped off his robe as Georgina did so. His body was thin and hairless, but a large cock sprouted from his loins. He raised the tawse again and smacked it against each of Andrea's breasts in turn, watching them quiver under the impact. ‘Nice tits.'

‘I thought you'd like them.'

‘Spread your legs apart, girl,' he ordered.

Andrea tried to obey but her hands were bound high above her head so she was almost at full stretch, and parting her legs put more pressure on her already tortured arms.

Miles ran a hand up her thigh until his fingers were touching her labia. ‘It's running down her legs,' he said.

‘They're all like that, Miles. This is what turns them on, you know that. Especially Hawksworth's girls. He seems to find the ones that need it most.'

A finger nudged against Andrea's clitoris and she moaned again.

‘Her clit's swollen, too.'

‘Come on, darling, I'm so randy...' Georgina purred, pushing herself into her husband's arms and kissing him passionately. Andrea saw her squeeze her legs together, trapping his cock between her thighs.

Miles broke away. He went over to the chest of drawers and took a small key from the top drawer. He came back to Andrea and stretched up to insert it into the thumb cuffs, his erection prodding into her side. Then as Andrea dropped her arms she felt a wave of pain, the cramped muscles in her shoulders registering a sharp protest.

‘Over here,' Georgina said, indicating the wooden frame. ‘Kiss me,' she ordered, and hooked a hand around Andrea's neck and kissed her too, her tongue thrust into Andrea's mouth, exploring aggressively. Andrea felt a surge of lust. She didn't think she would ever get over the shock of kissing a woman. But it was a shock that aroused her. It felt so different from a man, the lips more pliant, the mouth softer, and of course, the body that pressed against her, the breasts and belly and thighs so soft and silky. Georgina pressed a thigh between Andrea's legs, and she could feel the juices from her sex leaking over it. For a moment Andrea was completely transported, lost in a world of sensuous pleasure, her eyes closed, her body throbbing with delight.