by Sarah Fisher
Maggie stared at the computer screen, a great wave of grief and nervousness rising in her chest. She had come so far over the last few weeks since meeting Max, without him the journey undertaken would have been impossible. He had become such an important part of her life and she feared losing him almost more than she feared the unknown.
Maggie glanced up at the office clock; by this time tomorrow she would be well on her way to the mysterious location, just a lot in a slave auction, numbered, catalogued and ready to be sold to the highest bidder. She shivered and tried to still her panic by turning her attention back to the practicalities. The email said she was to wear a long coat, black stockings and her collar - nothing else. Guido would have the rest of her outfit when he collected her. If she was honest with herself, Simon Faraday and his unwanted attentions were the last of her worries.
‘How on earth do I get into this?’ she asked, looking at Guido, who had arrived promptly with a black cardboard box tied around with a huge red ribbon.
In her hand was a black rubber corset with attached suspenders, cut to support her breasts but not quite cover them, and it was open at the crotch to reveal her sex lips. Guido handed her a container of talcum powder.
‘Dust plenty on yourself and in the corset, and then roll it up and pull it on,’ he instructed her. ‘When you’re done I’ll polish you.’
They were standing in the hallway of her house, with an overnight bag at her feet, and it occurred to Maggie that Guido fully expected her to dress in front of him. It was strange how things had changed. She slipped off her raincoat under his watchful gaze, praying he didn’t want to fuck her before they left. Knowing that Max wanted her to make him proud she had carefully oiled her body and meticulously trimmed her pubic hair, just as Mrs Griffin would have prepared her had they been at his house. Make-up and perfume carefully applied, she was aware of the paradox of wanting to please Max and yet at the same time knowing that each passing minute drew her closer and closer to losing her place with him.
Guido watched with icy amusement as she wriggled into the tight rubber corset, helping her pull it up over her hips and ribs and then breasts, easing the straps up over her shoulders and then with a soft cloth and a little spray canister buffing the latex to high shine. Maggie looked at herself in the hall mirror, the stretchy material seemed to hold her in and push her out in all the right places, making her breasts appear full and ripe above a narrow waist and rounded hips.
Guido’s hands moved appreciatively over her tightly encased frame, and stopped buffing long enough to slip a hand between her thighs. ‘It suits you,’ he said, dropping to his knees to help her fasten the suspenders to the tops of her stockings.
His close attention caused her to blush. ‘Who is going to be at this auction, Guido?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Will Kay and Mike be there, and all those people from the theatre?’
He looked up at her. ‘Probably, and a lot of the others besides,’ he confirmed. ‘And the old guard as well, members who only come out of the woodwork to take a long hard look at the new blood.’
‘And where is this place we’re going to?’
‘My, my, but we really are nervous, aren’t we?’ he mocked. ‘It’s a place up north, a country estate owned by Sir Hugh. He and Max are old friends, they go back a long way. He’s a good man, and if you’re lucky maybe he’ll buy you. Or maybe you could persuade Max to give you to him as an early Christmas present.’
Maggie felt her eyes filling up with tears. How could she possibly tell Guido that she had barely slept the night before worrying about what might happen to her, wondering where she might end up and with whom. She had no idea what the rules of the game were. Then to her total surprise Guido straightened up and put his arm around her. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said comfortingly, pulling her close. ‘It’ll be all right.’
‘I don’t know if it will, Guido,’ she said openly. ‘Where’s Max? Why isn’t he here too?’
‘He’s gone on ahead to help with the arrangements. But really, you shouldn’t get upset. This is the way it goes. Max will make sure it works out all right for Maggie. He’s got a knack with this sort of thing. All his girls have ended up okay. Honestly, his slaves command a high price, and you’re one of his all time favourites. You’ll be just fine. Max will see to it.’
Maggie was grateful for his kindness, even if she suspected it would be short-lived. Guido looked at his watch. ‘Come on, you better get your coat on, we’ve a way to go yet.’
He was right. The drive to Sir Hugh’s country estate seemed to take hours. Maggie’s skin felt hot and damp under the rubber corset and her coat. As cityscapes gave way to rolling countryside and lush green hills, she watched fascinated, lulled into a waking doze by the constant movement of the car as the miles unfolded. On one occasion as the car swung out to overtake a lorry Maggie, disturbed awake by the manoeuvre, shifted position and realised how hot and uncomfortable she was in the corset.
Guido smiled at her in the rear-view mirror. ‘Why don’t you take your coat off?’ he suggested.
For once she agreed with him, and oblivious to what sort of image she presented in the back of the car she slipped it off, curled up on the backseat with the coat under her head and let sleep claim her.
Eventually the car slowed and Maggie opened her eyes just as they drew up to a huge pair of wrought-iron gates. Guido slowed to a crawl while a camera on the wall scanned them thoughtfully, its single critical eye watching them closely. Slowly, haltingly the gates creaked into life, and once moving swung open silently, allowing them to drive on to the estate.
The avenue that led to the house swept in through a copse of trees, finally opening out onto a dramatic vista - an old country house surrounded by a moat and acres of rolling parkland, with a herd of red deer grazing under some distant oaks. Maggie gasped. It was far, far grander than anything she had anticipated.
It was built on a great square. Outbuildings and walls with turrets and castellations led the eye to the main house where ornate formal gardens flanked each side of the main entrance, which was reached over a drawbridge.
‘Impressive, huh?’ said Guido, as they drove slowly along the sweeping avenue to the house.
It was quite an understatement.
‘We’re staying here?’ gasped Maggie, dragging her coat on; there was no way she wanted to arrive wearing nothing but the exotic rubber corset.
‘No, don’t cover yourself up,’ Guido stopped her. ‘That’s the whole point of you wearing it; Max will want to show you off.’
They rolled in under the main gates, which were topped with the family crest, under the heavy wooden portcullis and across the gravelled quad to the entrance where Maggie could see Max waiting. Guido opened the rear door of the car and told her to wait, although it was all she could do to stop herself from running up the stone steps and into her master’s arms.
Standing to one side of Max was a very distinguished man who Maggie guessed was their host. Guido took a fine leather lead out of his jacket pocket, snapped it to Maggie’s collar and then led her, wearing only the black rubber corset, stockings and high heels up the steps of the house, where he handed the lead to Max.
For the moment Maggie was oblivious to her appearance. She could see the pride on Max’s face, and wanted nothing more than to please him, even though it struck her that his was not the look of a lover but of a collector, delighted by the impression his possession would make on others.
Their host smiled. ‘Well, damn me, Max, if you haven’t done it again, although I suppose after all these years I should expect nothing less.’
‘Thank you, Hugh, would you care to inspect her?’
‘A little preview?’ the man mused appreciatively, eyeing Maggie up and down, and a good slave to her master, she kept her eyes respectfully downcast. ‘Yes, of course, that would be most agreeable.’
Max tucked the looped end of the lead between her teeth and she stood as she’d been taught, very still with her hands behind her back
, feet apart so that Sir Hugh could examine here.
‘What very nice breasts,’ he said, cupping first one and then the other in his palms, brushing the nipples with his thumbs, the treacherous little buds hardening instantly under his touch. ‘Very nice indeed.’ He nodded appreciatively and dropped a hand to her flat tummy, and then lower to the mound of her sex, a single finger parting the wet lips of her quim, working lower to enter her.
‘Hmm… nice and tight here,’ he considered. ‘And what about her delightful bottom?’
‘You’ll find it’s in a similar condition,’ Max assured him. ‘She might need a little stretching yet if one would want to use her regularly, but she is very willing, very eager to please, and very nicely spirited, too. She’s actually good company, unlike some I’ve trained. What more could a devoted master want?’
Sir Hugh nodded sagely, his eyes narrowing as he considered and concurred with Max’s words. Then he withdrew his finger and touched it to his lips, then sucked it, appearing to savour the taste and fragrance like a connoisseur considering a fine wine or a Cuban cigar.
‘But is she presentable?’ he asked, his eyes holding hers as he addressed Max.
‘That goes without saying, Hugh.’ Max took Maggie’s lead again. ‘Now would you object if I took her upstairs and got her settled?’
‘Good God, not at all man!’ Sir Hugh bellowed good-naturedly. ‘Thank you for letting me have first view of your latest acquisition. I’ll see you later - I promised Monty that I’ll try out his new pony team.’
As he left Max stroked her cheek. ‘Well done,’ he said. ‘I know Sir Hugh, and I know you made a good impression on him.’ The compliment made Maggie feel warm inside and surprisingly secure, considering where they were and why they were there. ‘Now, we have a suite in the west wing. I suggest we go upstairs, unpack, have a little something to eat and then explore the house. There are things here that will be very new to you. The whole house, in fact the whole estate, is a hedonist’s paradise. The auction always generates a lot of interest and even those who aren’t buying or selling like to come along and, well, exhibit, meet old friends, catch up, show off a little. But before we put you on the block there are some things I’d like you to see.’
Maggie looked at him questioningly, knowing her expression betrayed her apprehension.
Max pulled her close to him. ‘Don’t be afraid, my little one,’ he comforted. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you that you’re not ready for.’
Maggie held her tongue; despite wanting to tell him that she wasn’t sure if she was ready for anything the rambling house may have in store for her.
Inside the main door the hall opened up into a huge galleried space. Even though it was summer a log fire burned in a large fireplace. The area was lined with panelling and hung with ancestral portraits, and she could see the family resemblance between the faces depicted in the oil paintings and Sir Hugh. It was a magnificent reception area that implied permanence and a sense of unbroken husbandry.
In stark contrast to the gravitas of the surroundings, on stone plinths either side of the fire stood two iron cages, like oversized bird cages, and in each was standing a naked man, hooded, wrists manacled together behind their backs. Their cocks and balls were encased in a series of leather and metal hoops that held them in a state of semi-erection. Beside one cage a tall bald man dressed in a white ball gown and silver high heels was feeding one of the caged slaves grapes on the end of a long stick.
In open-mouthed awe Maggie followed Max towards the sweeping staircase, finding it impossible not to glance to one side through open double doors into what looked like a ballroom. It was full with people, some naked, some dressed, the general hubbub drifting out to meet them. That gave her some idea of how big an event the auction was. The hall seemed to be full of people mingling, talking - masters, mistresses and their slaves, dressed in all manner of costumes or naked except for collars and chains.
Max, following her gaze, smiled. ‘All in good time, my dear,’ he said. ‘All in good time. Let’s go upstairs and get settled first.’
Maggie hadn’t realised how hungry she was until she got to the room. In a handsome suite that overlooked the deer park someone had laid out a cold buffet on one of the side tables. She must have looked at the delicious spread with hungry eyes, for Max, taking a crop from the desk, said, ‘First things first, my dear. First things first…’
He approached her. ‘I am delighted to see you’re correctly dressed,’ he said. ‘I want you well marked before you go on the block tomorrow.’ He indicated the sofa. ‘Now bend over.’
Maggie hesitated; she had a love-hate relationship with the crop, and other implements Max used on her. She hated being beaten and yet at the same time she loved it. It was a shock to know that it turned her on in a way like nothing else did. She realised with a terrible sense of surety that anticipating her punishment, enduring it, and revelling in the memory of it afterwards was one of the most exciting parts of her relationship with Max. It was a symbol quite unlike any other of just how much she was prepared to give to him. Combined with the sexual pleasure and sense of total submission and humiliation this subtle game was quite unlike anything she had ever experienced.
She took a deep breath, turning her thoughts inward, gathering herself in some secret place that allowed her to relish and ride the pain. She heard the crop cut through the still air and gasped as the leather cracked raw and angry across her buttocks. ‘One!’ she snorted. He hit her harder than she’d anticipated and the first stroke brought tears to her eyes.
‘There is no need to count, my dear,’ he informed her, and she wondered if that meant he would go on until she could take no more?
The crop found its mark again. This time Maggie shrieked, but before she could recover he hit her again. After six his fingers massaged the glowing flesh, a mixed blessing for although she was delighted by his touch, at the same time rubbing made the blood flow all the faster through the welts.
At twelve he stopped again and Maggie whimpered, rubbing her head against his steadying arm.
‘I’m going to miss you so much, Maggie,’ he stated, and held the crop out for her to kiss.
Stunned, she murmured her thanks, her heart aching.
Max helped her to her feet. ‘Now go and tidy yourself up and eat, we have a long night ahead of us.’
He smiled indulgently while she ate a very late lunch. As she gazed out of the window a small cart trundled by on the gravel path below, and then another. Maggie watched them, and then realised with a start that they were being pulled by women - heavily built naked women, with plumed headdresses, harnesses and bells, trotting in step, whipped on by a liveried driver. They were matched pairs and fours, some blinkered, all turned out as smartly as any show ponies she had ever seen.
Max stood behind her and handed her a glass of champagne. ‘Pony girls,’ he said, in answer to her unspoken question. ‘They are Sir Hugh’s particular passion… those two in the front are identical Swedish twins. All trained, bred, beaten, treated as close to the real thing as he can manage. He likes more sophisticated creatures for the house, although in other most households pony girls double as house slaves or bed mates.’
‘Will I end up as a pony girl?’ she asked uneasily.
Max shook his head. ‘Unlikely,’ he said. ‘Possible, but unlikely. You’ll be sold as a companion body slave. A decorative creature to share a discerning man’s bed and maybe his life.’
Max adjusted the rubber corset so that her buttocks were shown off to their best advantage, the marks of the crop still red and fierce, and then he rolled down the bra cups so that her breasts were fully exposed.
Maggie stared at him as he picked up the crop again. He smiled thinly and she cringed. ‘Put your hands behind your neck,’ he ordered, and Maggie felt an icy chill grip her, guessing what was about to follow.
He stroked the loop of the crop under her chin and then said, as if to still the anxiety and fear in her eyes, ‘Six
quick strikes, they will hurt and then they’ll be done. Do you understand?’
Maggie nodded and closed her eyes in readiness. He was right, they were quick, they did hurt and she screamed as the crop cut across her delicate flesh.
‘That looks better,’ he said as she squirmed into his arms for comfort. ‘Now finish your lunch.’
Half an hour later Max clipped on Maggie’s lead and led her back downstairs. Nervous and extremely apprehensive, she felt quite overawed by her surroundings.
On low dais and plinths in the ballroom were all manner of things to bemuse and amuse and electrify the senses. On one was an oiled, naked man, manacled to a great cross. Behind him a muscular coloured master dressed in leather shorts and a full facemask applied a whip with force, raising great welts on the slave’s golden skin.
On another dais a small muscular man was hog-tied and suspended from an ornate metal frame. On yet another stood a petite Eurasian girl entirely covered in tattoos, her expression icy cold and empty.
‘Are these people all for sale?’ Maggie whispered in amazement.
Max’s eyes narrowed venomously and Maggie knew she had broken one of the fundamental rules and spoken without permission, but even so she was still horribly curious.
‘No,’ he snapped, ‘some are here for their masters and mistresses to show them off. To put them through their paces, to let us all enjoy their special tricks and skills.’
He pointed across the room to where two beautiful blonde girls in plumes stood strapped into the little cart Maggie had spotted earlier. On either side of the magnificent hearth, in wicker baskets, were two redheaded youths, sitting to attention like two well trained and perfectly matched dogs.