Perfect Slave (26 page)

The stewardess moved closer. She pressed her cheek against Andrea's and kissed her ear, the jacket of her uniform rubbing against Andrea's naked breasts. ‘Lovely,' she whispered, undulating her body against the rubber girdle as she wrapped her free hand around Andrea's neck.

The plane banked to the left and Isabel clung to Andrea for support. As the plane levelled out again she gave a tiny cry and squeezed herself against Andrea, standing perfectly still.

After a moment she pulled away, and without another word she straightened her skirt, brushed through her hair with her fingers, and walked through into the passenger cabin, leaving Andrea alone amongst the cargo.

 

The plane was starting to descend. Andrea could feel the pressure building in her ears.

Isabel's attentions, as well as the master's, had left her unbelievably frustrated. She would give anything to be able to finger her clitoris. It was alive, itching to be relieved, but yet again she was denied this comfort; which made matters worse because the constant reminder that she was a slave and could not even touch herself only increased her excitement and need. ‘
So needy
,' the stewardess had said, and she was absolutely right.

There was a single porthole in the cargo compartment, but as it was now dark Andrea could only glimpse the landing lights on the runway as they came in to land, and she had no idea where they might be.

It took about five minutes for the plane to taxi to a halt and outside Andrea caught a glimpse of a black limousine, waiting on the side of the tarmac.

She heard a thud of doors being unlatched. The cargo door opened and she felt a rush of fresh air. It was balmy and scented with flowers. A man in overalls began unloading the cases from the racks, though he appeared not to give Andrea a second glance.

Isabel appeared from the passenger cabin. She began unbuckling the straps around Andrea's arms, and the belt around her ankles followed. Then as soon as she was free she used a pair of metal handcuffs to bind Andrea's wrists behind her back.

There were six steps to the tarmac, and Isabel helped Andrea down them. She led her across to the limousine where a driver stood with the rear door open, and the luggage was being loaded into the boot. Inside she saw Hawksworth on the phone.

The driver closed the door the moment Andrea was inside, then slipped behind the wheel, and the car drove off as Isabel walked back towards the plane.

It was a short drive. Andrea caught sight of a French road sign at a small roundabout. They were in France! In three or four minutes of winding country lanes they were pulling through the wrought-iron gates of an impressive chateau.

The car did not drive up to the front of the building, where a double staircase in stone led up to huge front doors, but right around the back, where a large conservatory had been added to the building, and was flooded with light. As they got closer Andrea could see that as well as all the exotic plants around the glazed walls it also contained a swimming pool.

The car came to a halt at a door at the back of the chateau. Hawksworth was still deep in conversation in French, and made no attempt to get out. The driver opened the rear car door.

‘Go with him,' Hawksworth said, putting his hand over the telephone for a second.

The driver helped Andrea out of the car. He led her over to the door and rapped on it with his gloved hand.

A few seconds later the door was opened, light flooding out. A woman stood in the doorway. To Andrea's astonishment she was dressed in an identical costume as her; a red rubber girdle, long gloves in the same material, black stockings and red leather high-heels. She even wore an identical steel collar to the one locked around Andrea's throat from the first day. The only difference was that the girl was wearing a red velvet mask over her eyes.

‘
Merci
, Henri,' the girl said, and the driver walked back to the car.

She held out a mask. ‘Put this on,' she said with a husky French accent, then realising Andrea's hands were cuffed behind her back she raised the mask and slipped the elasticated strap around her head, settling it on her nose and making sure the two oval slits for her eyes allowed her to see.

They walked into the chateau, along a brick-floored and well-worn corridor into a small, surprisingly intimate sitting room.

‘
Bon soir
.' A short middle-aged woman with blonde hair sat in a blue armchair. She was wearing a brief white satin slip with a lace bodice, and kneeling in front of her was another corseted girl, except her garment was made from black velvet, with laces running down her back. The blonde's legs were wide apart, one foot on the floor and the other raised, her calf resting on the girl's shoulders. The girl's mouth was pressed to her sex, and her head was bobbing up and down. Andrea could see her naked buttocks were crisscrossed with weals, at least six or seven and all, judging by the blotchy red colour of them, fairly recent.

In front of a stone fireplace a grey-haired man was sitting on a large sofa, wearing a white cotton robe. A girl knelt in front of him too; her costume also identical to Andrea's, right down to the velvet mask. The whole difference was that her hands were tied under her chin by a nylon line secured to the steel collar around her throat. She was sucking the man's naked cock, just as Andrea had sucked Hawksworth's on the plane.

‘Welcome, my dear,' the woman added, stroking the dark hair of the girl who knelt in front of her. ‘You've arrived at just the right moment, as you see.' Her English was impeccable, with hardly a trace of an accent.

‘Come over here,' the man said.

Andrea hesitated; was she supposed to obey them, as she obeyed Hawksworth?

‘Do it,' said the man causing her hesitation; Hawksworth was standing behind her with a stern expression on his face. So Andrea hurried over to the man.

‘Kneel,' he said, so she knelt beside the identically dressed girl. ‘Share it,' the man ordered, pulling his cock out of the girl's mouth.

Andrea did not need to be asked twice. Acutely aware of her master's eyes boring into her back she slipped her mouth over the large cock, its shaft already glistening with saliva. As she did so the girl squirmed around and kissed the standing rod of flesh, their lips touching as they sucked and licked and kissed.

‘Hawksworth, how nice to see, you,' the woman greeted.

‘Marie-Claire, it's a delight as always,' he replied.

‘She is for training, no?' Marie-Claire nodded towards Andrea.

‘Yes. I don't think you'll have any difficulties. She has a real talent for it.'

‘Then that promises to be fun. Won't you join us? Take your pick.' She took hold of the brunette's hair and pulled her head back. ‘This one is very talented, aren't you Claudine? Though as you see for yourself, we have had to take her in hand tonight.'

‘Oui, Madame Vuittenez,' the girl said meekly.

‘Or there's Simone over there. You wouldn't mind would you, Pierre?'

‘For you, Charles, anything.'

‘And who is this charming creature,' Hawksworth asked, turning to the girl in red rubber who'd met Andrea at the door.

‘Sophie,' said Marie-Claire, ‘our star pupil.'

‘Then come here, Sophie,' Hawksworth beckoned, and the girl walked closer. Andrea could only see him from the corner of her eye, but it appeared that he kissed her on the lips. He had never done that to her. ‘But for the moment I'm content to watch,' he said.

‘Bon,' Marie-Claire said.
‘I love being watched. Are you comfortable here, or shall we go upstairs?'

‘I'm fine here,' Hawksworth said. He selected an armchair and sat down.

‘She's good,' Pierre said to him, nodding at Andrea.

‘Thank you,' Hawksworth replied.

‘Has she been buggered?'

‘Yes, but only by me.'

‘Do you mind?'

‘My dear man, you're going to have her here for seven days. This is the last lap of her training. You and Marie-Claire have carte blanche with all the girls.'

‘True,' Pierre mused. ‘So kneel up on the sofa, girl,' he ordered.

‘Ohhh...' Marie-Claire suddenly threw her head back and groaned in delight, Claudine's face back between her thighs, the girl's tongue lapping at her clitoris.

‘Sophie, bring me some nipple clips,' Pierre instructed. ‘If Charles wants a show will give him one.'

As Andrea got up on the sofa, helped by Simone, Sophie crossed to a small box on an occasional table and took out a thin metal chain, at each end of which were the oval clips Andrea had experienced for herself.

‘Get her nice and wet for me, Simone,' Pierre said, and Simone immediately lay on her back on the sofa, then wriggled back between Andrea's knees until her face was immediately under her sex. She wrapped her hands around Andrea's thighs, just above her stocking tops, and pulled her down onto her face. Instantly Andrea felt her tongue dart up into her sex, butting against her clit. It was such a relief after all her frustrations that she whimpered loudly.

Pierre got to his feet and stripped off his cotton robe, his erect cock bobbing from his groin. He stood at the side of the two girls and cupped Andrea's breasts, pinching her nipples, making her moan with pleasure. Already she was feeling the familiar precursors to an orgasm, but she knew, with Hawksworth's eyes watching every move she made, she was not allowed to come. But Simone's tongue was artful. It seemed to be able to find the spot on her clitoris which produced the greatest pangs of pleasure, and wave after wave of delight was making her shudder and convulse.

Sophie carried the nipple clips over to Marie-Claire, pulled the shoulder straps of the slip down her arms and bared the blonde's breasts. The girl opened the jaws of the clips and fitted them over her nipples, making Marie-Claire gasp.

Pierre gripped Andrea's neck, pulling her face back to his cock. She opened her mouth and sucked it in, her eyes searching out Hawksworth's, remembering how it felt as he came in her mouth not so long before. He met her gaze, those blue eyes betraying not the least emotion, neither excitement nor disdain.

Pierre pulled his cock out of Andrea's mouth and climbed on the sofa, kneeling behind her, astride Simone. Andrea felt his throbbing erection nudging against her buttocks.

Simone raised her head and coated Pierre's cock with saliva, making hungry slurping noises. Then as Andrea felt her mouth latching back on her sex lips Pierre's cock thrust into the opening of her anus.

‘No,' she murmured, but her body betrayed her, her sphincter opening to allow his glans to press inside. It was only the second time she had experienced such discomfort in her life, but it quickly transmogrified into sinful pleasure. Her sex clenched and she felt her clit pulse as Simone's clever tongue teased it.

Everywhere around her was sex. She could see Marie-Claire stretched out across the armchair, her head thrown back, both legs now resting on Claudine's shoulders, the heels of her white satin slippers digging into the girl's back. Claudine was licking her sex avidly with broad strokes of her tongue, while Sophie stood beside the chair with the chain of the nipple clips in her hand, pulling it up so that the blonde's nipples formed two tortured peaks.

Pierre thrust his cock forward, into the depths of Andrea's rear passage. Another stab of pain rippled through her, instantly followed by hot, fervid pleasure. Her whole body shuddered. She was on the brink of a violent orgasm, Simone's tongue working ceaselessly between her legs, bringing her closer and closer. She looked over at Hawksworth, trying to beg him with her eyes to give her permission, but he was looking at Marie-Claire.

‘No,' she whispered to herself, trying desperately to hold herself back. She was sure now that everything about the day had been planned, even what had happened with Diana, to create an overwhelming need, to test her to the limit.

Pierre began pumping into her, the tight tube of her rear lubricated by Simone's saliva. She had never realised that her anus could be as sensitive as her cunt. ‘No, please no,' she breathed.

Suddenly Hawksworth's eyes met hers and everything stood still. For a moment she remained in stasis as he looked at her. Then he nodded, a gesture that had only one interpretation, and she came, her orgasm flooding her, like the water behind a dam. She screamed and shuddered, her anus clamping around the rod of flesh that invaded it. Somewhere in the huge miasma of feeling that shook every inch of her she felt Pierre's cock jerking too, and was aware of a hot wetness spreading from the centre of her, but her own feelings were too intense to really register it clearly.

Eventually the feelings ebbed away. She opened her eyes and looked down between her legs. Simone had gobbled Pierre's wilting cock into her mouth and was busy licking it clean of the last drops of his spunk.

Across the room Marie-Claire must have come too, because Sophie was delicately plucking off the nipple clips, replacing them with the soothing balm of her tongue. Claudine lay sprawled on the carpet, her services no longer required.