by Sarah Fisher
‘Very good, my dear,’ Max said, as she folded her clothes on the seat. ‘Here.’ He handed her the collar she had worn so briefly at the hotel. Without a word she put it on and then turned slightly so he could snap the little lock shut. The sound made her shiver with anticipation.
Max looked her up and down appreciatively and then cupped one breast, rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger. ‘Open your legs.’ His tone was crisp and businesslike.
Maggie stiffened. His fingers tightened on her nipple making her gasp, but still she resisted him. ‘Maggie,’ he growled, squeezing the bud between his fingertips, making her cry out in shock, and this time she let her knees fall apart.
With no prelude his free hand dropped into her lap, fingers roughly prising her sex open, exposing her totally. Maggie gasped; there was no finesse here, just a desire to explore her body in the basest of ways. He drove a finger between her lips, a sense of shame swamping her as he explored her delicate folds.
‘Did you find her nice and tight, Guido?’ he asked casually, and Maggie looked up in horror, reddening furiously. It hadn’t occurred to her that Max would know about her escapades in the woods with his driver. She had assumed it was a secret between her and Guido - and knew in her heart that it would never have happened had it not been for the lingering image of slavery and submission Max Jordan had imprinted on her mind.
‘Yes, sir,’ said Guido, his eyes twinkling in the mirror. ‘Nice and tight, and really hot for it.’
Max brushed her clitoris with his thumb, making the muscles in her belly tighten. Maggie could feel her body responding shamefully.
‘So, you let Guido fuck you as soon as my back was turned, did you?’ he accused her. ‘Is that the kind of girl you are, Maggie? A dirty little slut who opens her legs to any man that comes along?’
What could she say? She felt sick with shame. There was no excuse for the way she’d behaved.
‘From now on I will be in control of who has you - who fucks you.’ He sank three fingers into her, making her stiffen and suppress a sob. ‘And I will decide when you touch yourself and how you do it. You do touch yourself, don’t you, Maggie?’
She closed her eyes and wished she could close her ears too, his words goading her.
‘Tell me,’ he ordered.
‘Yes, master,’ she admitted.
‘Yes master, what?’ he pressed. Surely Max didn’t really want her to explain. A finger pressed hard over her clit, making her whimper beneath the heady mixture of discomfort and pleasure. ‘Tell me, Maggie. Tell me.’
‘I - I like to touch myself,’ she stammered.
‘Where do you like to touch, Maggie?’ he interrogated. ‘Your nice tits? Your cunt?’
Maggie felt the heat of humiliation growing inside her. How on earth could she say the words aloud? In the front of the car Guido listened and waited, his eyes on the road as he drove.
‘Yes, master,’ was all she could manage.
Max caught her clitoris tight between thumb and forefinger. ‘Don’t try and be clever with me, young lady. Tell me, do you like to touch this?’ His hand spread to cradle her sex.
‘Yes, master, I like to play with myself there,’ she admitted meekly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Max nodded. ‘Good girl.’
She felt defeated and crushed and humiliated. Max pulled her to him and kissed her forehead. ‘Good girl,’ he said again. ‘Now, as you like the woods so much I thought we might go for a little walk today. Just you and me.’ He handed her her coat. ‘Put it on.’
Maggie looked at him inquisitively. Did he mean her to get dressed again? He smiled as if sensing her confusion, his voice as warm and personable as some older uncle taking his favourite niece out for the day. ‘Just put it on as you are - no need to get dressed again.’
Gratefully she pulled it over her nakedness, but before she could button it he added, ‘Leave it open, I want to look at you.’ He carefully arranged the garment so that her body remained totally exposed to him, and then added to the bizarre quality of the journey by starting a conversation with her about her work at the magazine, and she found herself telling him about the project on gardens.
As time passed towns gave way to villages and villages gave way to countryside. Guido manoeuvred the car through the trees, along a track that led away from the winding road. The car drew to a halt in a small, leafy area that provided parking for picnickers and ramblers.
‘Get out,’ he ordered her, and Maggie was about to protest when he added, ‘You may button your coat now, for the time being.’
She sighed with relief, for with her coat fastened and stockings on, no one would guess she was naked underneath; a little inappropriately dressed for a woodland stroll, perhaps, but certainly not naked.
Max caught hold of her hand. ‘Now, my dear,’ he said, ‘let me show you one of my favourite places.’
They walked for a while through sun-drenched trees, talking about all manner of things, but just beneath the surface Maggie could feel her expectation and tension growing. There came a moment when silence fell and all she could hear was her pulse in her ears, a counterpoint to the gentle sounds of the woodland and nature.
Despite her coat she was very aware of her nakedness beneath, particularly every time a dog walker or courting couple ambled by, nodded and murmured politely and walked on.
At last Max headed off the main trail towards a thicket, stopped in a slight hollow and from behind a small bush produced several lengths of rope.
Maggie stared at him in astonishment. ‘What are you going to…?’ she began, her voice tight with apprehension.
‘Take off your coat, Maggie,’ was all he said.
As Max unwound the rope he watched her closely. It was interesting to watch her hesitation. She was torn between her desire, her fear, and a myriad other contradictory emotions. As if in slow motion she slipped her coat off, letting it fall to the ground. She stood very still in front of him, making no effort to cover herself, her nakedness emphasised beautifully by the trees.
As Max blindfolded her he could feel her trembling. He pressed the ball-gag into her mouth and then took hold of her wrists, feeling the tremor vibrate deliciously through her body. She looked magnificently vulnerable amongst their surroundings, her creamy skin a subtle contrast to the whispering canopy of green and gold. She looked like a delicate nymph.
He bound her wrists tight together in front of her and then threw one end of the rope up and over a branch above her head, pulling it tight so that his newest student was stretched taut, taking her weight on the balls of her feet, hands bound high up above her head. With more rope he tied each ankle apart, spreading her legs wide.
She was totally still and silent, although as he worked he could feel every sense in her body reaching out to him, begging, hoping, searching for clues as to what might happen next. Standing behind her he ran his hands over her, both to enjoy her body and to reassure her. Her flesh was silky and cool.
She moaned behind the gag as his fingers worked down her spine and around her lithe torso to cup her breasts. She gasped, instinctively thrusting her body back towards him. Max smiled to himself; beneath her cultured and rather aloof exterior Maggie Howard had the heart of a whore. When he turned his attentions to her sex he discovered that she was already wet, her silky juices coating the tops of her thighs.
Stepping back he slipped off his jacket and took a flogger from the inside pocket. Very gently he drew the soft leather strands across her thighs and buttocks. Maggie mewled, tugging against the restraints. Max stepped back a little to check his stroke, and then hit her, not hard, but enough to make her muscles tense. She gasped and twisted at the end of the rope, instinctively trying to escape. He hit her again, harder, and she whimpered into the gag. Harder still he struck her and she let out a stifled sob, the noise spilling out from around the gag.
He beat her again and she shrieked as the tail of the cat wrapped around her ribcage and clawed hungrily at her brea
sts.
Max smiled. Through the trees he saw a flicker of movement and knew his activities were being observed. He hit her again, ignoring their uninvited guest, deliberately lower so that the tails of the flogger wrapped round the tender flesh of her thighs. Her whole body convulsed. Again she cried out, sharp and raw despite the gag, and then he struck again, from the corner of his eye spying an elderly man creeping closer, totally mesmerised by Maggie and her naked, whipped body.
Max hit her again and her head snapped back. He knew from the tone of her muffled protests that even though she was still at some level registering the pain, her mind was floating in a sea of endorphins, the body’s natural pain relief.
The next blow wrapped around her waist and she twisted on the rope, gasping, saliva seeping around the gag onto her chin. Her body seemed to glow with an inner light as the pain speared through her. She looked superb, and Max glanced to his left and eyed the old man, his expression frozen with carnal hunger. It was as if Maggie’s passion and pain had drawn him out into the open.
‘Would you like a closer look?’ asked Max.
The old man looked around uncertainly, clearly unable to believe his luck, and then nodded. It was obvious from the bulge in the front of his trousers that he was hugely aroused.
Maggie was trying hard to still her breathing as she reached out for clues as to what was happening. The old man circled her like a hungry scavenger, studying her beauty and her vulnerability, breathing it in. Max stepped close behind her and reached round to open the lips of her sex, so that the old man could see the ripe pinkness within. She was wet, her clit a hard bud longing for release. The old man leered and licked his lips, and fumbling with his trousers pulled out a gnarled and wizened cock.
Max beckoned him closer, so he could touch her, and feeling a second pair of hands on her flesh Maggie let out a shriek of dismay.
‘Be nice to our new friend, my dear, or I’ll take the whip to you again,’ Max threatened, his lips brushing her ear.
The old man wiped his mouth and then ran his shaking hands over her face and throat, before cupping a breast in each hand, then moving even closer, lowered his lips hungrily over one nipple and sucked noisily. His twitching cock brushed against her thigh, leaving a sticky trail across her creamy flesh.
Maggie swallowed as if trying to still her fears, while the old man’s fingers and lips pulled and slobbered on her breasts.
‘Help me untie her,’ said Max, and the old man needed no further encouragement. He stooped stiffly to untie her ankles, his face within inches of her sex, drinking in the enticing scent of her arousal.
Max untied her hands and then turned and eased her forward so that she was bent at the waist, her hands against the tree to support her. The old man leered again as Max undid his trousers and, without prelude, sank his raging cock into Maggie’s waiting and vulnerable body.
She moaned and threw back her head, her sex closing around him like a clenched fist, her muscles drawing him deep, deep inside her. Despite the gag she cried out as Max began to fuck her. He could sense her longing for her own release, while beside them the old man groaned too and mauled her nearest breast while with his other hand he avidly pumped his straining shaft.
Max suspected that neither of them would last long. Maggie cried out as he pulled her back onto him again and again. The old man snorted and grunted and an instant later a flood of sperm hit her back and arm and then Max was there too, filling her with his offering.
As he pulled out of Maggie the old man sank slowly to his knees and began to lick hungrily at her quim and bottom. She mewled wearily and then Max watched as her body and her raw animal need began to take over. She began to move, instinctively grinding her wet quim over the man’s wrinkled face until his tongue and fingers carried her over into oblivion, the waves of orgasm crashing over her. Between her trembling legs the old man, his face slick with sexual juices, pulled away, leering broadly. Max moved forward and rubbed his flaccid cock across her lips, and watched with satisfaction as her tongue emerged and she performed her duty for him. To his delight she drew his limp wet cock between her lips, and he enjoyed the devoted movements of her tongue.
Chapter Six
Back at the car Maggie sat quietly trying very hard to regain some sense of composure. She was wearing her coat, the leather slave collar, hold up stockings and shoes, the latter now a little grimy from their walk and activities in the woods. In the rear-view mirror Guido watched her discomfort with evident interest.
‘Home now, I think,’ Max decided, ‘for a little lunch and relaxation. You can leave your clothes and bag in the car; Guido will see to them.’
Maggie had almost forgotten that she’d agreed to stay with him, and realised with a growing sense of apprehension that whatever was going to happen to her, the experience in the woods was just the beginning.
Working from home meant that she could come and go as she pleased. Although she had a desk at the magazine’s office no one would comment on her absence as long as her stories were filed on time. She sat back and closed her eyes, trying hard not to let her imagination run away with her. For a moment she tried to imagine what it might be like if she never went home. What if Max kept her? What if…? She bit her lip, struggling to get a grip on her rampant imagination.
Max Jordan’s home was an elegant four-storey townhouse tucked away in an affluent city side street. They were welcomed at the door by his housekeeper, Mrs Griffin, a tall, sour-faced woman of an indefinable age. She was elegant and icy, dressed in a dove-grey coatdress that seemed deliberately cut to hide her figure, almost as if designed to render her asexual. Her thick straight hair, a shade of grey fractionally lighter than her dress, was pulled back into a severe bun that did nothing at all to soften her angular features or cold blue eyes.
‘Would you like me to take your coat?’ she said to Maggie as they made their way inside. Maggie stopped mid-stride, and Max turned to look at her. It was obvious that he expected her to hand it over, and Maggie was beginning to understand only too well that it didn’t do to keep Max Jordan waiting or to disobey him. The rules of the game weren’t so hard to fathom out, but were at odds with everything else she had ever believed in or known. She slipped off the coat and handed it to Mrs Griffin, painfully aware of her exposure, but the older woman’s expression didn’t change, she said nothing, her eyes taking in both Maggie’s nakedness and her discomfort in a single glance.
‘Give Mrs Griffin your shoes as well, Maggie, they need cleaning,’ Max said, and naked, barefoot, feeling like a well-trained puppy, Maggie padded along behind him into an elegant sitting room furnished with black leather chesterfields and a cream carpet. The drapes at the floor to ceiling windows were black velvet caught back with gold ties, and the room had an air of male elegance, of good taste and understated luxury.
‘Today, my dear, you will begin basic training, you will begin to understand how it feels to be a fulltime slave. This evening we have guests coming for supper. But now we will have a little aperitif, lunch, and then I’ll have Mrs Griffin show you to your room. You might like to have a little rest before this evening.’
He smiled and settled comfortably on one of the sofas. ‘I would suggest you take a nap. It will be a long evening. Now turn around; I want to see if you’re marked.’
Maggie did as she was told, reddening slightly as Max turned her first one way and then the other. ‘Hardly anything,’ he said, sounding disappointed. ‘I like to see where I’ve been, to leave my mark. Go to the side table and bring me my crop.’
Maggie hesitated.
‘Did you hear me?’ he asked.
‘Yes, master,’ she said. ‘I heard you.’
‘Then do as you’re told. For a little while you will be allowed some leeway, but trust me, young lady, that luxury will rapidly be coming to an end.’
Maggie went over to the table, where set out in a neat row was a braided leather crop, a whip, the tails arranged in straight lines, a schoolmaster’s cane
and a leather paddle that looked a little like a short oar.
The tools of Max’s trade.
Maggie gulped and picked up the crop as instructed, then with her eyes downcast she returned and handed it to him.
‘Get down on your hands and knees,’ he ordered.
Maggie got to the floor in front of him, already feeling the rush of adrenaline, stunned at how quickly she obeyed. She remembered how the crop bit into her flesh and made her cry out in shock and pain. Closing her eyes she braced herself for what she knew would follow.
Max, the consummate sadist, trailed the looped tip gently along her spine and over her buttocks, exploring her body with all the self-assurance of a man examining his property.
‘Open your legs,’ he said, and Maggie obeyed, exposing the delicate folds of her sex. Max cut the air with the crop, a practice swing, but still it made the kneeling girl cringe. ‘You’re a little nervous, slave,’ he commented.
She heard the crop cutting the air again and cried out almost before the blow cracked down across her poor bottom. Even though it wasn’t overly hard it sent a white-hot glow through her body.
‘One,’ she hissed instinctively, knowing it was what he wanted to hear.
‘Two,’ she wailed as the next strike landed square across the fullest part of her buttocks.
‘Three…’ The pain was intensifying.
‘Four,’ she gasped. It hurt so much, hot and sharp.
‘Five.’ The word nearly caught in her throat, vying with a protest for release.
‘Six.’ Surely Max would stop soon? Surely six was enough?
‘Seven… eight… nine… ten…’ a volley of rapid strokes.
‘Eleven… twelve!’ Maggie shrieked, biting her lip to hold back the tears that threatened. And then it was over and she felt Max’s cool hands on her skin, comforting the reddening flesh.
‘There we are, my little one, all done,’ he murmured, and for an instant Maggie sensed and heard the arousal in his voice. He pressed the crop to her lips and without a moment’s hesitation she kissed it. How had this happened?