Perfect Slave (22 page)

‘You feel so good,' Martin murmured, and to Andrea's amazement she felt his cock begin to stiffen again. He gazed down at her, his eyes sparkling mischievously. ‘And like you said; a rapid recovery rate.'

He started gently easing in and out of her again, but after a few moments he stopped and rolled off her. He took his cock in his hand and squeezed. ‘So now it's your turn,' he said. He got up. His whole attitude had changed. He was no longer diffident and hesitant.

‘It's all right,' she said. ‘You don't have to...'

Martin smiled. ‘I know I don't have to,' he said. ‘What do you call my uncle?'

‘Master,' Andrea said. The word gave her a pang of arousal.

‘Master. And you are his slave?'

Andrea nodded.

‘And you submit to his will, is that it?'

She nodded again.

‘Well you better start calling me, master.'

‘Yes... master.' She felt another distinct thrill deep in her core. Martin's voice was suddenly stern.

‘That's better. Now get on your knees on the floor by the bed. Start behaving like a slave or I'll get one of the other girls up here.' It was as though he was trying out a new role for himself, seeing whether he was comfortable with it, and it appeared he was. She had given him back his masculinity and now he was going to give her back her thraldom. Andrea lowered herself to the floor immediately.

Martin went over to the chest of drawers. ‘This looks interesting,' he decided. ‘Put it on,' and he threw a leather harness on the floor in front of her.

She picked it up. The thin leather straps consisted of a bra-shaped top, which fitted around her breasts but not over them. Extending down from the straps under each breast, two more formed a long ‘V' that looped into a metal ring over the wearer's sex. From the bottom of this ring two thinner straps were pulled under the crotch and up into the cleft of the buttocks, were they were fixed into an identical metal ring at the small of the back. A thick strap then travelled from this up the spine, where it split into two and connected to the shoulder straps of the bra. All the straps had buckles so they could be adjusted to fit snugly.

Andrea struggled into it while Martin watched. ‘That's much better,' he said, when she'd finally buckled all the straps tightly. ‘You can stand up now.'

She obeyed immediately. The tight leather harness was not restrictive of movement, but they reminded her of her bondage, the smell of the leather provoking an instant reaction deep in her sex.

Martin produced a length of white rope from the drawer. ‘This is what you want, isn't it?'

‘Yes, master.' It was exactly what she wanted.

‘Come here, then; you don't think I'm going to walk over to you, do you?' He was growing into his role and beginning to enjoy it. His cock had not flagged and still stood from his belly at right angles. Andrea walked over to him.

‘Hands out in front of you.' He looped the rope around her wrists, and then between them, leaving a length of it trailing. He pulled her forward by it until they reached the armchair. ‘Stand behind it,' he ordered.

Andrea was on familiar territory once again. Martin was growing in confidence in his new role and his confidence was matched by her excitement. He dropped the end of the rope onto the chair and went back to the chest of drawers, returning quickly.

‘I'm going to gag you now,' he told her.

‘Yes, master.' Andrea savoured a sharp thrill of excitement. She loved being gagged, having her mouth stretched open and invaded. She could suck on a gag and pretend it was her master's cock.

Martin pushed the rubber ball-gag between her lips and secured it with a leather strap around her head, tying it tight. She felt his hot erection pulsing against her buttocks as he did so. Then suddenly something descended over her eyes. It was a black leather blindfold.

‘No...' she sighed, almost to herself.

‘Oh yes.' She felt him kneeling at her feet. ‘Legs apart.' As she obeyed his hands grabbed her ankle. He was wrapping a leather cuff around it. The cuff must have been attached to some sort of bar, because when he'd finished with both ankles she could not close her legs again.

‘I could get to like this,' he mused. She heard him moving around in front of her, then stop. She was sure he was admiring his handiwork. A few minutes before she'd been naked; now she was trussed up in black leather and rope, an icon of fetishism.

She felt a tug on the rope, pulling her forward. She bent over the back of the chair. He pulled until her head was lowered to within a few inches of the seat. He passed the rope under the chair and tied it off to the bar that spread her legs apart.

‘Is this how you should be treated?'

Andrea nodded. The bondage had induced a level of arousal that was making her feel intensely elated. She was completely helpless and vulnerable again, her sex exposed and available, her limbs rendered useless. She could feel the leather harness biting into her flesh, particularly the two thin straps on either side of her labia, and the tight white rope that ensnared her wrists. The darkness seemed to concentrate all her feelings and magnify them.

‘Let's see you struggle then,' he goaded. ‘Come on. I want to make sure I've done a good job.'

Andrea pulled with her arms and tried to kick her legs free of the leather cuffs, but though she could wriggle and writhe from side to side, she could not escape the position he'd tied her in.

‘That's very sexy. I like watching you do that. I'm beginning to think there's something in all this after all.'

She felt his hand touch her buttocks. In this position her sex was pursed between them, turned up towards him and spread open. His fingers slipped into her slit briefly, and she moaned as they nudged against her clit.

‘Downstairs, when I whipped that girl, I felt something,' he pondered aloud. ‘Perhaps I inherited it from my father. Do you think that's possible?'

She mumbled around the gag.

‘So I'm going to whip you now, Andrea. It doesn't seem fair, but I'm going to do it because I know that's what you want. It is what you want, isn't it?'

She shook her head, though she wasn't sure why. She had been whipped many times now, and it always brought pain. But there was also almost indescribable pleasure, too.

She heard him walk away. A few seconds later she heard a tap running. He had gone to the bathroom, but why?

He came back into the bedroom. He touched the small of her back. His hand was wet. She sensed him raise his other hand. Drops of water landed on her back. She heard a whistle of air and then a searing line of pain explode right across the rump of her buttocks. The pain was like no other she'd experienced.

‘We used to do this at school,' he chuckled. ‘Wet towel, in case you're wondering.'

The sodden weapon landed again. Andrea screamed into the gag. She felt her buttocks quivering.

The third blow was the strongest of them all, but the pain was beginning to turn to that hot pleasure she craved. This time the sound muffled by the gag was much more of a moan of delight than a whimper of pain. She felt her clitoris pulse and realised her body was undulating as she pushed her belly down against the back of the chair.

She heard Martin drop the towel aside. He gripped her hips and immediately shunted his cock into the depths of her cunt. She was hot and incredibly wet, his two ejaculations adding to her own viscous juices. As he ploughed into her for the third time she strained against the bonds that held her so tightly, wanting to remind herself that this time she was not free, that she was a slave again and not able to do anything for herself. But if she was a slave again, she knew she was not allowed to come without permission.

He held himself deep inside her and reached round for her breasts, pinching both nipples. Her body responded by clenching her sex tightly around his shaft.

He straightened up again and pulled his cock back slowly, before sinking it in again, grinding his hips from side to side as if to screw himself into her, provoking a surge of sensations that made her shudder animatedly... and she simply couldn't stop herself from coming.

‘Yeah... I want to feel you come,' he growled, and that was all the permission she needed. Instantly her sex seemed to melt around him. Every muscle in her body seemed to soften, her body turning to molten liquid.

Martin pulled out of her. He was still erect. ‘Well now,' he said, as he bent to loosen the rope around her wrists. ‘I think it's time I met one of the other girls...'

 

 

 

She had to be helped up the narrow steps into the helicopter. It would have been impossible for her to do it by herself. Her high-heels were too high for one thing, and for another her hands were bound to her sides so she couldn't use her arms for balance.

Laurie pushed her forward into the cabin, then settled her in one of the seats, doing up her seatbelt for her.

Andrea was wearing a black suit and a white silk blouse. The skirt of the suit was a rather unusual design. There were two small slits on each side that to a casual glance looked like pockets, but they weren't. Small metal links attached to leather cuffs that were buckled tightly around Andrea's wrists, passed through the slits and were secured to leather bands wrapped around Andrea's thighs. The bondage made it impossible for her to move her hands from her sides. Another clever piece of tailoring allowed the cuffs of the jacket to hide the leather wrist-cuffs, the metal link covered by a vent in the sleeve.

The helicopter engine began to increase in pitch. The same steward who had served her what seemed a lifetime ago, ducked into the cabin through the internal door. He was holding two pairs of headphones. He fitted one over Andrea's head, barely giving her a second glance, then handed the other pair to Laurie.

‘Can I get you anything else, Ms Angelis?'

‘No.'

‘Off to town?' he said politely.

‘Yes.'

He disappeared as Laurie fitted the headphones over her ears.

Andrea hadn't seen Martin since the night before, or her master. She hoped she was being taken to the latter now.

The helicopter banked and rose over the house. It headed east, soon tracking alongside a motorway towards London. It reached the city in less than fifteen minutes, and then turned north. After another ten minutes it banked again and began to head for a tall building, its windows made from opaque black glass that reflected the sun.

As it got closer Andrea saw a circle painted on the flat roof. The helicopter hovered over it for a moment, then landed with a gentle bump. The engine noise dropped to a loud hum. Andrea felt a thrill of anticipation. Darrington International had its headquarters in a large office block in North London.

Laurie took off her headphones and undid her seatbelt. She leant across and did the same for Andrea. ‘Up.'

Andrea got to her feet. Laurie descended the steps first, then supported Andrea as she climbed down too. She took her by the arm and led her over to a metal staircase, which led down to a lower platform and into the main building.

Once inside the noise of the rotor blades dropped to a gentle hum again. ‘That's better,' Laurie said.

They were standing in a small hallway in front of a single door, elaborately carved with an art deco design of wavy lines. Laurie took out a key from her small clutch bag and unlocked it.

‘Follow me,' she said. Beyond was a much larger corridor with two banks of lifts. The floor was polished ash and a huge abstract tapestry dominated the space, its primary colours so bright they seemed to vibrate.

Opposite the lifts were two double doors, carved with the same designs as on the smaller door. Laurie guided Andrea over to them and opened one, pushing her forward.

Andrea found herself in a large room. One entire wall was glass from floor to ceiling, and presented a spectacular view over London. She could see the National Westminster Building and the City to the right, St Paul's and the Houses of Parliament.

There were eight desks manned by female staff typing on computers. Two walls were lined by black filing cabinets, and in the third was another carved door which Laurie led Andrea to. If anyone of the secretaries noticed anything strange about her, none of them gave the slightest hint. Laurie opened the door.

‘Good morning, my dear. Come in, come in. I'm sorry to bring you all this way, but business must take precedence over pleasure on some occasions.'

Charles Hawksworth was sitting behind a curved rosewood desk. The office also had a floor to ceiling window, but there was little in the way of furniture. Apart from the desk there were two chairs in front of it, and a sofa and cocktail cabinet against one wall, all in classical art deco designs.

‘That will be all, Laurie, thank you,' he said. She closed the door, leaving them alone.

‘Come over here,' he said, waving her forward. She tottered a little, not only because her heels were high, but also because the knee-length pencil skirt was tight and only allowed her to take diminutive steps.