Perfect Slave (23 page)

‘Sit down.' He indicated one of the chairs in front of his desk, then when back to a telephone conversation.

Awkwardly Andrea managed to sit down. She watched Hawksworth as he talked, his eyes flashing as he made a point, his fingers and beautifully manicured nails making small gestures to emphasis what he said. He had a quality of authority, whether here sitting in his office, at the very centre of his empire, or in bed commanding her to obey his slightest whim.

The telephone call ended. ‘Well, my dear,' he said, getting to his feet and moving around the desk. ‘I hope you had a pleasant flight?'

‘Yes, master.'

‘Good.' He came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. The touch made her start. ‘I am very pleased with you, Andrea. Very pleased. Martin has given me a glowing report. He seemed to think you were very special, too. So I have decided to embark on the final part of your training straight away.'

‘Thank you, master.'

His hands slid down under her jacket to her breasts, cupping and lifting them slightly.

‘First there is some urgent business I have to attend to, but once that's over...' He squeezed her breasts sharply, then let go, returning to his desk with the flicker of a smile on his lips. As he sat down the telephone rang again.

‘Yes?' He listened, then began to talk in rapid and fluent French.

The door opened and one of the girls from the outer office walked in. She had blonde hair, and wore a short black skirt and sleeveless blue blouse. Her legs were spectacular, slender and contoured, her calves and buttocks firmed by the fact she was wearing high-heels. She was carrying a file of papers.

She totally ignored Andrea and stood at the side of Hawksworth's desk, waiting for him to finish his call.

‘Yes, Diana?' he said, as he put the phone down.

‘The French contract you wanted, sir,' she said, handing him the file.

‘Thank you. Has Lloyd arrived yet?'

‘Yes, sir, and Mr Highfield.'

‘Good. Tell them I'll be with them in a few minutes. And take Andrea in with you.'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘Go with her, Andrea,' he said.

She rose, and felt herself blushing; struggling to her feet without being able to use her hands it was quite obvious that her wrists were bound to her sides, even though the means by which this was done was not visible. But the girl was clearly not in the least bit shocked. She took Andrea's arm and guided her across the office. There was a single door in the wall opposite Hawksworth's desk, which she opened and led Andrea through.

The room beyond was similar to Hawksworth's office, with the same huge window and decorated in very much the same style. There was an oval conference table surrounded by twenty chairs, but the room was dominated by an oil painting depicting a riverside picnic; although it was no ordinary picnic. All the participants, with one exception, were female, and were all in various stages of undress, some wearing just skirts or just blouses, others naked but for stockings and frilly garters, while others wore tightly-laced corsets. Their attention was centred on the single male who sat at a picnic table being served an array of food by them. He wore a scarlet robe and had a large wolfhound at his feet.

‘Over here,' Diana said.

There was a table standing against one of the walls, upon which was a coffee machine, a variety of soft drinks, cups, saucers, large tumblers and paper napkins. Next to the table was an odd-looking metal device which Andrea had first taken to be some sort of modern sculpture. Sticking out about a foot from the wall, but attached to it by a solid metal spike, was a flat matt-black spine of metal about six-foot tall. Close to the top of it was a circle of metal. There was another larger ring at waist level too. The bottom was crossed by a horizontal bar, extending for about two feet on either side. At each end of this bar was another much small metal ring.

The girl went to the odd contraption, and as Andrea caught her up she could see that each of the metal circles had a little lock at the front, and could be hinged open.

Diana opened all four rings. ‘Stand here,' she said, and before Andrea could obey she caught hold of her arm and pulled her around so her back was against the vertical metal bar. ‘Head up,' she ordered.

With practised ease she closed one metal ring around Andrea's throat and locked it underneath her chin, forcing her to keep her head up, her vision immediately restricted. She certainly couldn't look down to watch the girl snapping the larger ring around her waist, nor pulling her legs apart so her ankles could be secured into the two rings on the horizontal bar. The latter was the most difficult to accomplish, as the tight skirt prevent Andrea's legs being spread far enough apart and the girl had to wriggle the skirt up her thighs before both ankles could be accommodated.

Andrea was completely helpless. With her hands still secured to her thighs, and her neck, waist and ankles encompassed by steel, she could not move.

Diana studied her critically for a moment. She unbuttoned her jacket and folded it back. The material of the blouse was thin and Andrea's breasts were clearly visible under it.

‘Rather you than me,' she said, an expression that could be best interpreted as a sneer.

Her high-highs clacked as she walked across the polished wooden floor, her pert round bottom swaying sexily, and as Andrea watched her she realised she was feeling a pang of desire. It was the first time she'd felt that for another female unprompted, and it shocked her.

She had no time to dwell on that, however. Almost before the sound of the girl's shoes had died away a tall bearded man walked in carrying a black briefcase. He was followed by an older, shorter man, who walked with a slight limp, and had a shock of unruly white hair. They closed the door and walked to the conference table, glancing at Andrea briefly, very much as if she were merely an interesting piece of the furniture. They talked in a language Andrea thought might be Swedish. The bearded man took a pile of papers out of his briefcase and then set it on the floor. Both men then started going through the papers.

The door opened again, and Edward Highfield entered. He smiled at her briefly, then turned his attention to the other two men, shaking their hands and greeting them effusively.

Behind him two younger men came in, both in smart grey suits. They shook hands with the others and sat down at the table, and it was only then, apparently, that they noticed Andrea. They stared at her with obvious surprise, but clearly neither dared make any comment to the others.

Diana returned carrying some files, and put them down at the head of the table just as Charles Hawksworth entered. He sat where the files we placed, and Diana sat to his left with a notebook and pen.

‘There's coffee over there,' he said, waving a hand towards Andrea and the table beside her. ‘Please feel free. Later we have lunch for you in our executive dining room, and I think you'll find our chef to be excellent. Now, to business.'

They began discussing a deal for the acquisition of a patent in an electronic circuit which the bearded man appeared to own. Weeks before, when she worked for Silverton, Andrea might have found the details quite fascinating, but now all she could think of was what her master had said to her. The final stage of her training? What could that mean? And was he coming with her? She yearned to be alone with him again.

The metal frame was extremely uncomfortable, particular the collar around her neck, which was too high and dug into her chin. Her legs were cramping too. Diana had only pulled the skirt up far enough to allow her to place Andrea's ankles into the metal rings. The hem of the skirt was still tight and bit into her thighs, just as the metal dug painfully into her ankles.

One of the younger men got to his feet and walked over to the coffee table. He appeared to not be looking at her, but stole furtive glances as he approached. Standing pouring himself a coffee he allowed himself a longer look, his eyes dwelling on her breasts and her legs, the skirt pulled up enough to reveal a hint of the leather that banded her thighs.

While Highfield and the bearded man discussed some aspect of the contract in detail, Hawksworth looked his way. ‘Beautiful, isn't she?' he said, getting to his feet. He came over and put his arm around the young man's shoulder.

‘Yes, very.'

‘You haven't been here before, have you?'

‘No, Mr Hawksworth.'

‘Artists spend a great deal of time trying to create things of beauty. But women are more beautiful than anything they can create, in my opinion. Other people have sculptures in their offices, but I prefer the real thing.' He looked at the young man seriously. ‘And like all good sculptures she deserves to be touched, don't you think?'

‘Touched?'

‘Of course. Go ahead. Stroke her. Feel her.' He smiled. ‘She's in no position to bite.'

The man's hand was trembling so much he had to put his cup of coffee down. He was clearly intimidated by Hawksworth's charismatic personality, and even if he wanted to refuse the invitation, saw no way of doing it without incurring Hawksworth's displeasure.

He moved over to stand in front of Andrea, and she watched his hand moving towards her. His fingers trailed down over her breasts, and he blushed.

‘Gary,' the bearded man called, and the young man hastily returned to the table, clearly relieved to have an excuse to get away. Hawksworth ambled back too, a look of amusement on his face.

They were soon all engaged in conversation again. The discomfort for Andrea increased. She wished she could edge the skirt up her thighs an inch or two to relieve the pressure on her legs, and tried to use her fingertips to tug on it, but it made very little difference, unable to get a good grip. She found though, that if she ground her bottom she could get some momentarily relief, transferring the worst of the cramp from one leg to the other, but it was only momentary and she had to be careful that no one noticed what she was doing.

‘Well gentleman, I think it's time for lunch,' Hawksworth eventually announced.

The chairs moved back as the five men and one woman got up from the conference table. Still chatting they headed for the door, the bearded man leading, followed by the other three, leaving Highfield and Hawksworth alone for a moment.

‘I think it's going well,' Highfield said.

‘Two million less than we'd budgeted for; that's impressive,' Hawksworth agreed. ‘Come on, let's eat.'

‘Do you mind if I have a word with Andrea first?'

‘Of course not. If it hadn't been for you I'd never have found her. I'm very grateful; she's perfect. I have high hopes for her.'

‘Are you going to put her into the System?'

‘That's her decision. She has to complete her training first. You know what Marie-Claire's like.'

Hawksworth patted Highfield on the arm, then walked out of the door, closing it after him.

‘I'm sorry I couldn't say hello earlier,' he said as he walked over to her. ‘You're looking suitably uncomfortable.' He stood directly in front of her and took her left nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it hard. ‘Are you excited?'

‘Yes, master.'

‘I bet you are.' He took hold of her skirt and tugged it further up her thighs. The relief was enormous for her. His hand snaked up between her legs to her sex. She felt him pushing a finger against her clit, and she gasped.

‘If Hawksworth puts you into the System I'm going to bid for you, Andrea,' he told her. ‘You're the most exciting young woman I've ever met.'

She could see a bulge tenting the front of his trousers. Pulling his hand away he wrapped his arm around her waist, encompassing the vertical metal bar, and embraced her, his erection pressed into her flat belly.

‘I haven't been able to keep my eyes off you all morning,' he breathed into her ear, his lips brushing her cheek. He was undulating his hips so the ridge of his cock slid up and down against her soft flesh. ‘I haven't stopped thinking about being with you again. None of the other girls...'

Suddenly he threw back his head and gave a little gasp. Even through the layers of material that separated them she could feel his cock pulsing. He pressed harder, then pulled away. There was a damp stain spreading across the front of his navy-blue trousers.

‘See what you do to me?' he said.

He took some of the paper napkins from the coffee table and tried to wipe the mark away, but giving up the effort he hurried across the room and left without another word.

Andrea hadn't given much thought to what her master had said about the System before. But it was puzzling her. She knew he'd spoken of her having to make a choice at the end of her training, but he'd not explained anything about what that choice would be. From what he'd said to Highfield it seemed she'd be offered a chance to enter the System. But what it meant and how it worked she could only guess. Highfield had said he would bid for her, and she didn't know what that meant either, though the thought of being with him again was not one she cared to contemplate too much.