Perfect Slave (25 page)

Isabel pushed Andrea down into one of the armchairs and fastened her seatbelt. With her arms secured to her thighs she was once again completely helpless.

Hawksworth entered the cabin and sat in the other armchair, facing Andrea. ‘I'll have another malt, Isabel, please.'

She went to the bar and poured the drink, then set it down on the small table next to his chair.

‘Now leave us,' he said.

‘We take off in five minutes, sir.' She walked to the door at the front of the cabin and closed it after her.

Andrea had never been in a private plane before, but she was not in the mood to take any real notice of her surroundings. It was quite obvious to her now that wherever they were going Hawksworth intended to take her there personally, and that made her feel almost intoxicated with delight. What's more, she could see his attention was focussed on her now, his eyes examining her body. In all the long hours at the manor she had done nothing but think about what it would be like to be with him and have him all to herself. Now it seemed that wish had come true.

The plane's engines whistled into life and the plane taxied forward. After the briefest of waits at the end of the runway it took off, climbing rapidly. Andrea wanted to ask where they were going, but dare not.

As the plane levelled out there was a knock on the cabin door. ‘Yes?' Hawksworth called.

Isabel entered. ‘Is there anything you'd like, sir?'

‘Yes, get Andrea a drink, please. What would you like, my dear?'

That took Andrea by surprise. After having spent so long without making a single choice for herself it was difficult to get back into the habit.

‘Give her a glass of champagne,' Hawksworth said.

Isabel opened a bottle and poured a glass. She went to Andrea and held it to her lips to drink, so casually Andrea was sure she'd had to perform this service before. Some of the champagne spilled over her lips and down her chin, dripping onto her white blouse.

‘Undo her seatbelt,' Hawksworth said, and Isabel flipped it open. ‘Stand up.' Hawksworth's attitude had changed. His voice was gruffer and more demanding; the relaxed and chatty manner adopted in the car had completely disappeared. Andrea got to her feet. ‘I want her naked, Isabel.'

‘Yes, sir.' Again Isabel seemed to know exactly what to do. She unclipped the leather cuffs from the thigh bands and pulled off Andrea's skirt. She took her jacket off and then the white blouse too, Andrea's breasts quivering as they were revealed.

‘Take the thigh bands off,' he said. ‘Bind her hands behind her back.'

Isabel drew Andrea's arms behind her back and used the snap-lock on the D-rings to secure the cuffs together. The thigh bands were held in place by velcro, which made a tearing sound as she pulled them away.

The leather had disturbed the tops of the stockings slightly, so Isabel straightened and smoothed them, her hands nudging against Andrea's naked sex rather more than Andrea thought was strictly necessary.

‘Leave us,' Hawksworth ordered.

Isabel took one last look at her all but naked body, and then left the cabin.

‘Kneel,' Hawksworth said, and Andrea obeyed with some difficulty, her knees sinking to the thick carpet.

Hawksworth levelled his blue eyes straight at hers. She was riveted to the spot by the power of them. Then he got to his feet and walked over to the bar, pouring himself another malt from the crystal decanter. He sipped the golden liquid, then put the glass down on the counter. ‘Would like some more champagne?'

‘Yes please, master.'

He picked up the champagne glass, tilted her head up by her chin, and put it to her lips. It was a tender gesture and one that made her heart leap. The look in his eyes was caring, too. The wine was still cold. It dribbled down her chin again and dripped onto her breasts. Her nipples, already erect, stiffened further.

Hawksworth put the glass down and took off his jacket. He unzipped the fly of his trousers and extracted his flaccid cock.

‘Here,' he said, ‘suck it for me, Andrea.'

She felt her pulse racing. He had been intimate with her before, but never anything like this. Eagerly she moved her head forward. For once she genuinely wished she was not in bondage, that she could hold his cock in her hands, and cup his balls while she took him in her mouth. But she would just have to make do with her lips and her tongue. She opened her mouth and sucked him in, then used her tongue to rub his glans and the vein running along the underside.

‘Good girl,' he said.

His cock began to swell rapidly. She pushed forward until it was buried in the back of her throat, then sucked hard on the whole length of it. Pulling right back she dipped her head lower, running her lips down underside of the shaft, sucking and nibbling. When she reached his balls she sucked them one after another. His cock, resting against her cheek, throbbed strongly.

Then her master stepped away. He tugged off his tie, undid his shirt, and kicked off his shoes.

A phone on the bulkhead rang. He picked it up, cradling it to his ear with his shoulder while he sat on the chair and pulled off his socks. ‘Yes?' He listened for a moment. ‘I'll call you back,' he said. Getting to his feet again he undid the belt of his trousers, allowed them to fall to the floor, and stepped out of them. His black briefs followed.

‘I don't really have the time for this,' he said, but took a step towards kneeling Andrea, his erection an inch from her lips. But as much as she wanted to suck it into her mouth again she knew better than to do anything without being told.

‘Now, where were we?' he mused. ‘Oh yes, I remember. Make it good, Andrea.'

She dipped her head until her lips were under the gnarled shaft again. She used her tongue to tease his balls, then sucked his cock back into her mouth. This time she used her teeth, nibbling the rigid flesh lightly, until her lips were against the base of his shaft and she could feel his wiry pubic hair touching her nose.

Slowly she moved back, nipping all the way along his phallus, delaying the moment she plunged her mouth down and swallowed him again. Her own sex was running with juices, the wetness coating her thighs. She remembered how she'd felt as she watched Julia being allowed to do exactly this to Hawksworth, and how she wished it was her. Now her wish had come true. She hadn't understood what the ‘training' he'd spoken of meant, but now she knew. It was not a question of obedience or discipline, though that was obviously important. What her weeks at the manor had done was to narrow her entire world down until it was entirely focussed on Charles Darrington Hawksworth. She cared about nothing else. Nothing else mattered.

She still cursed herself for being so stupid on her first day at the manor, and for the mistake she made, but she guessed placing her with so many provocations was deliberate. Hawksworth wanted to punish her with neglect to show her right from the beginning exactly how much she needed him and his attention, and how little he needed her. A slave is not complete without a master; isn't that what he'd said?

She had his attention now, all of it.

She swallowed his erection, taking it right to the back of her throat, so deep she had to control the reflex to gag.

Hawksworth moaned, running his fingers into her long blonde hair and holding her head, so she could not move back. She felt his cock pulsing strongly. He relaxed his grip. She pulled back so she could use her tongue on his glans, licking it and covering it with her saliva.

‘What a sweet little mouth you have,' he drooled, in almost a whisper.

She pushed back on him again, then began a regular rhythm, sawing her mouth back and forth, sucking hard as he thrust inward, licking with her tongue on the outward stroke.

‘Yes...' he hissed. She could see the muscles of his thighs tightening and feel his fingers digging into her scalp. She increased the tempo. By angling her head back she could get the whole of his cock inside her mouth, and feel his glans throbbing against the tight ribbing at the back of her throat. She wanted to feel the boiling spunk erupting from him.

Hawksworth's cock pulsed within the tight confines of her throat, his glans swelling like a balloon, and she felt a jet of hot liquid spurt from him. For a second nothing else happened. He held himself rigid, every muscle in his body locked. Then his cock jerked again and his spunk spattered out of him in a stream, cascading down her throat. Desperately Andrea tried to swallow it all, but there was so much some escaped and pearled down her chin. Hawksworth did not move. He stood there naked with his hands entwined in her hair, allowing his orgasm to wash over him. Andrea felt his cock softening, and touched it gently with her tongue, the taste of his spunk filling her senses.

Eventually he pulled away. He picked up his whisky and took a sip, then pressed a button on the bulkhead by the bar.

‘Yes, sir?' Isabel said, opening the door from the forward cabin, apparently unfazed by Hawksworth's nakedness. Clearly she was quite used to such incidents.

‘Get Abrahams back on the phone for me.'

‘Yes, Mr Hawksworth.'

‘Then get her ready.' He nodded towards Andrea, but didn't look at her.

‘Certainly, sir.' Isabel closed the door again.

Hawksworth picked up his trousers and briefs and pulled them back on. He slipped into his shirt. A moment later the phone rang again.

‘Yes...' Hawksworth listened, then began talking in French. The cabin door opened and Isabel came back in. She took hold of Andrea's arm and hauled her to her feet. ‘Come on,' she said. There was a definite glint in her eye.

The stewardess directed Andrea to the rear of the cabin. There was another small door, which she opened and guided Andrea through.

‘Alone at last,' she said, closing the door.

They were in a small cargo compartment. There was nylon webbing on slatted wooden storage shelves, and several cases were carefully strapped down on them.

Screwed into the bulkhead between this and the passenger accommodation was a T-shaped structure covered in white leather. Attached to the crosspiece at shoulder height were six white leather straps. Another strap was dangling from the vertical component just off the floor.

Isabel spun Andrea around, released the snap-lock that held the cuffs together, then unbuckled both of them. There was a small case on the floor by one of the storage units, and Isabel crouched down beside it, put it on its side and opened it up.

‘Put these on,' she said, standing and handing Andrea a red rubber garment, a pair of matching gloves and a packet of stockings.

Andrea examined the rubber garment. It was like an old-fashioned full-length girdle with shoulder straps and short suspenders dangling from the hem. At the front, where it fitted over her breasts, two holes had been cut. She pulled the rubber over her head and down over her shoulders. The inside had been coated with talcum powder, but it was still a trial to worm her body into it, but eventually she managed to, the constricting rubber moulding tightly to her curves. It extended down over her buttocks to the tops of her thighs, and her breasts swelled obscenely through the holes at the front. She opened the cellophane packet of stockings and shook them out. They were black and sheer with a glossy finish, a fully-fashioned heel and a seam.

‘Sit on this,' Isabel said, moving a metal stool to her. The seat was cold, but Andrea perched on it, raised her legs one by one and rolled on the stockings, making sure each seam was straight. She then clipped them into the suspenders of the rubber girdle.

‘Now the gloves,' Isabel directed.

Andrea picked them up and began working them over her fingers and up her arms. They extended well above her elbows, and again it took a great deal of tugging and manipulating before they were both in place.

Isabel took a pair of red leather ankle boots from the case and handed them to Andrea. They had a tapering four-inch heel. ‘Put these on too.' Andrea pulled the boots on. ‘Good,' Isabel said. ‘Now stand up.'

Andrea got to her feet again. Isabel took her by the arms and pushed her back against the bulkhead with her shoulders in the centre of the crosspiece of the white leather cross. She raised her left arm at right angles to her body and secured the first of the leather straps around her wrist. The second strap fitted just above the elbow and the third right at the top of the arm. The stewardess then took her other arm and secured that too, then knelt at Andrea's feet, pulled her ankles together and bound them with the strap at the bottom of the T-shaped cross.

‘Better than a seatbelt,' she said, smiling. She raised her hand and stroked Andrea's cheek. ‘Look at you; you're so needy, aren't you?' She ran her finger down Andrea's throat, along her collarbone and down to the rubber girdle. She flicked both Andrea's nipples with her fingernail, then moved down under the hem of the girdle, to her sex, parting her labia and finding her clit.

Andrea gasped as the finger pressed on her aroused bud. ‘So needy,' Isabel repeated. She wormed her finger between Andrea's sex lips, then lifted it to her own mouth and sucked it. ‘And so juicy...'

The skirt of the grey uniform she was wearing was knee-length and quite tight. Isabel wriggled it up over her hips, revealing that her flesh-coloured nylons were clipped into a white suspender belt. She was wearing white French knickers. She pushed her hand into the leg of the knickers and Andrea watched her fingers locating her clit, frigging herself.