Perfect Slave

by Becky Bell

  ‘As long as you do. And I want her back tonight. By ten at the latest.’

  ‘Promise. By ten at the latest. Come on, sweetie, you’re coming for a ride.’

  ‘She hasn’t eaten yet.’

  ‘We’ll feed her,’ Georgina said, with a huge smile.

  The master glanced at Andrea. ‘Obey her,’ he said, as casually as if he were ordering another bottle of wine.

  Chapter Seven

  Georgina’s fingers bit into Andrea’s upper arm like talons, guiding her through the busy restaurant. The maitre d’ stood aside as they reached the exit, his eyes watching Andrea’s every step, his expression clearly puzzled.

  As they got outside the main entrance Andrea saw a pack of drivers standing by six or seven large limousines, parked at the front of the car park. Georgina gestured to one of them, who immediately hurried to a claret-coloured Rolls Royce. Moments later the luxury car was crunching gravel outside the front entrance and the chauffeur walked majestically around to open the passenger door.

  ‘Sorry, madam,’ he said, ‘I thought you were staying for lunch.’

  ‘Change of plan, Freddie,’ Georgina said, guiding Andrea into the car.

  Andrea’s emotions were reeling. After a moment of real intimacy with her master, when he’d touched her physically in a way he’d not done before, he abandoned her apparently without the slightest qualm, barely giving her a second glance as Georgina pulled her to her feet. As she looked back at him as they left the restaurant he was busy eating his lunch, clearly not giving the matter a second thought.

  But she knew she mustn’t dwell on that. She was his slave, after all. For all she knew this was just another carefully rehearsed test, and Georgina’s arrival wasn’t as unexpected as it appeared. Whether that was the case or not she determined that she must not fail him. He’d told her to obey and that’s what she would do, no matter how testing that might be. She wanted the woman to report to him that she’d done everything asked of her, no matter what it was.

  The interior of the Rolls, like the interior of the Mercedes, smelled strongly of leather. The back seat was deeply padded, the floor covered with a luxurious carpet. Unlike the Mercedes, however, the windows were not opaque glass. Nor was there any glass divider between the driver and the passengers.

  As the car drove off Georgina turned to Andrea. ‘How long have you been with Charles?’

  Andrea thought for a moment. It was difficult to keep track of time. It felt like she’d been at the manor for a lifetime. ‘Two or three weeks.’

  ‘You address me as mistress,’ she snapped, her eyes cold and hard.

  ‘Yes, mistress.’

  ‘Take your jacket off; let’s see what we’ve got here. And kneel on the floor.’

  Andrea knelt on the soft carpet and slipped off the jacket.

  Georgina lent forward and examined her breasts closely. ‘Now the blouse.’

  Andrea pulled the blouse out from her skirt and took it off.

  ‘What’s that, a slip or a teddy?’

  ‘A teddy, mistress.’

  ‘Slip it off your shoulders and then take your bra off. I want to see your breasts.

  She extracted her arms from the satin shoulder straps and pulled it down to her waist. Reaching behind her back she unclipped her bra, relieved, with the clear glass in the windows, to be travelling through the countryside not a town. Her breasts quivered as the bra cups fell away.

  ‘Impressive,’ Georgina said, picking up her left breast by the nipple and pulling it this way and that. ‘Turn so Freddie can see.’

  Again Andrea obeyed. She saw the chauffeur’s eyes examining her in the rear-view mirror. He was young, with blue eyes and a square jaw. It looked like his nose had been broken at some point in the past.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Nice,’ he said, with no particular conviction.

  ‘Freddie’s not really into big tits.’ Georgina pulled Andrea around again. ‘But my husband is. Are they sensitive?’ Georgina had long fingernails, which she buried into Andrea’s right nipple.

  ‘Yes, mistress,’ Andrea gasped, and as she let go Andrea saw the nails had left crescent shapes in the puckered flesh.

  ‘Good. Take your skirt off.’

  Andrea reached behind her back to the short zip. She undid it, then sat up on her haunches so she could pull the skirt down to her thighs. If she wasn’t sure what she was feeling when she got into the car, she certainly felt no such dilemma now. It appeared that as long as she was treated like a slave, as long as she were debased and made to feel totally subservient, her body responded with unadulterated excitement.

  She wondered if that was why her master had agreed to let her go. It would teach her a valuable lesson. No matter who was in charge of her, the feelings and emotions her total submission generated were the same. What she felt for Hawksworth, the affect he’d had on her from the moment she first saw him, allowed her to be honest about her sexual needs. He recognised something in her and had the means to satisfy it. But now she was beginning to realise that, though she would always want and desire him to be her master, her needs were not specific to him. She had taken an instant dislike to Georgina, but even that did not affect the way she responded to her commands.

  Andrea rocked back onto her bottom and wriggled the skirt down her legs.

  ‘And the teddy,’ Georgina said.

  The white silk garment was banded around her waist. Andrea slipped it off, leaving her naked but for the gloves, suspender belt, stockings and high-heels.

  ‘Hold your hands out in front of you. Thumbs up. You can keep the gloves on.’

  Georgina had a yellow handbag, almost the same colour as the dress. She searched inside it and extracted a pair of miniature metal cuffs, which she closed around Andrea’s leather-covered thumbs, effectively binding them together.

  The car turned off the main road and was heading down a country lane into a small village. There was a roundabout by the village green, and they slowed to a halt as two cars swung by from the right. Andrea found herself staring straight into the eyes of a young cyclist who had pulled up alongside them. He was fresh-faced and blushed as he eyed Andrea’s body.

  The Rolls pulled away. A few minutes later it slowed again and pulled into the tarmac driveway of an impressive country house, a beech hedge surrounding the whole property. The driveway was short and the car rolled up to the front door.

  ‘Take her around the back, Freddie. I’ll go and get Miles.’

  ‘Yes, madam,’ Freddie said.

  Georgina got out of the car, which immediately pulled away. It followed the drive around the back of the house and stopped by a block of garages.

  The chauffeur opened the passenger door. ‘Out,’ he said.

  Andrea climbed out of the car. Freddie took her by the arm and led her across to the garages. The doors were open and a red Ferrari was parked inside. They walked past it to a door in the back, which Freddie unlocked with a key. ‘In here.’

  The room beyond was tall and narrow. It was clean but sparse, with white walls and a stripped wooden floor. It had no windows and was lit by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. A wooden frame about the size of a double bed in the middle of the floor and a large pine chest of drawers was the only furniture.

  Freddie closed the door. ‘Are you really into all this?’

  ‘Yes,’ Andrea said simply, because it was true.

  ‘You must be bleedin’ mad,’ he said, slipping into a cockney accent. ‘Come over here.’

  He walked to the far side of the room. There was a single metal ring set in the wall about seven feet up. A rope hung down from it. Freddie took hold of her hands, pulled them up above her head and tied them to the rope so she was stretched up almost on tiptoe, her naked breasts pressed against the wall.

  ‘Nice arse,’ he said. He was still wea
ring his driving gloves. He caressed her buttocks roughly. ‘Have fun.’

  He started to walk across the room as Georgina entered. ‘Not going, are you Freddie?’

  ‘You know I’m not into all this stuff.’

  ‘So straight, aren’t you? It’s a pity.’ Georgina ran a hand up his forearm and gripped his upper arm tightly, blowing a kiss into his face.

  The chauffeur smiled. ‘Each to his own,’ he said. He walked out of the door, closing it behind him.

  Georgina came up behind Andrea. Her hand traced over her buttocks, then pushed down between them. Her finger prodded into her vagina.

  ‘Very juicy,’ she said. It was. What happened in the car had seen to that. Her nipples were also so hard they felt like pebbles.

  She walked over to the chest of drawers and opened the bottom drawer. Andrea twisted her head around and saw her taking out a long leather tawse, its tongue split into three. She slapped it against her open palm.

  ‘We can’t afford slaves of our own. Much too expensive. But Hawksworth can sometimes be very generous.’

  The door opened. A thin, gaunt man in a white cotton robe walked in. He had tousled brown hair and a long face with a lantern jaw.

  ‘Well, she’s a pretty one,’ he said, staring at Andrea’s naked body. ‘How long do we have her for?’

  ‘Charles wants her back tonight. He was very insistent.’

  Andrea realised that was true. She hadn’t thought of that. Did it mean Hawksworth had something in mind for her?

  ‘Lovely tight arse,’ he said.

  ‘I was just going to warm it up a bit.’

  ‘Good idea. Give me one of those. We’ll take it in turns.’

  Georgina took another tawse from the drawer and handed it to her husband.

  ‘Shall we tie her legs?’ he asked.

  ‘No, let’s watch her wriggle.’

  Georgina put her tawse down on the top of the chest of drawers, then pulled the jersey dress over her head. She was wearing beige French knickers inset with lace, and a pair of flesh-coloured hold-up stockings, but no bra. Her skin was evenly tanned. She picked the tawse up again and advanced towards her prey.

  ‘She hasn’t been trained,’ she told her husband.

  ‘Really? Does she know how to respond properly?’ He raised the tawse and lashed it down against Andrea’s left buttock.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said, hoping that was the response he expected. The pain from the tawse was quite different from the whip, less intense but over a much broader area.

  ‘Apparently she does,’ Georgina said. She lashed her tawse down on Andrea’s right buttock.

  ‘Thank you, mistress.’

  ‘That’s enough,’ the man said. He raised the tawse again and cut it down powerfully. Instinctively Andrea tried to squirm out of the way, but as she moved to the right Georgina caught her full across the bottom with another vicious stroke.

  ‘Keep still,’ the woman ordered.

  The blows fell thick and fast, one after the other, the flesh of Andrea’s buttocks trembling, the skin soon a bright red. Despite Georgina’s injunction Andrea found it impossible not to squirm against the wall, her breasts rubbing against the plaster and her arse on fire. She lost count of the number of strokes they gave her, but she was sure there wasn’t a single part of her bottom they hadn’t thrashed. Several strokes fell on her upper thighs too, the tip of the tawse coiling inward to lash the delicate flesh of her labia. But any pain she felt had long turned to strong, breathless pleasure.

  ‘That’s enough,’ Miles said.

  ‘Nice and red.’ Georgina’s hand caressed the welted flesh. It felt deliciously cool and Andrea moaned as it soothed her scorched arse.

  ‘Turn her round.’

  Miles stripped off his robe as Georgina did so. His body was thin and hairless, but a large cock sprouted from his loins. He raised the tawse again and smacked it against each of Andrea’s breasts in turn, watching them quiver under the impact. ‘Nice tits.’

  ‘I thought you’d like them.’

  ‘Spread your legs apart, girl,’ he ordered.

  Andrea tried to obey but her hands were bound high above her head so she was almost at full stretch, and parting her legs put more pressure on her already tortured arms.

  Miles ran a hand up her thigh until his fingers were touching her labia. ‘It’s running down her legs,’ he said.

  ‘They’re all like that, Miles. This is what turns them on, you know that. Especially Hawksworth’s girls. He seems to find the ones that need it most.’

  A finger nudged against Andrea’s clitoris and she moaned again.

  ‘Her clit’s swollen, too.’

  ‘Come on, darling, I’m so randy...’ Georgina purred, pushing herself into her husband’s arms and kissing him passionately. Andrea saw her squeeze her legs together, trapping his cock between her thighs.

  Miles broke away. He went over to the chest of drawers and took a small key from the top drawer. He came back to Andrea and stretched up to insert it into the thumb cuffs, his erection prodding into her side. Then as Andrea dropped her arms she felt a wave of pain, the cramped muscles in her shoulders registering a sharp protest.

  ‘Over here,’ Georgina said, indicating the wooden frame. ‘Kiss me,’ she ordered, and hooked a hand around Andrea’s neck and kissed her too, her tongue thrust into Andrea’s mouth, exploring aggressively. Andrea felt a surge of lust. She didn’t think she would ever get over the shock of kissing a woman. But it was a shock that aroused her. It felt so different from a man, the lips more pliant, the mouth softer, and of course, the body that pressed against her, the breasts and belly and thighs so soft and silky. Georgina pressed a thigh between Andrea’s legs, and she could feel the juices from her sex leaking over it. For a moment Andrea was completely transported, lost in a world of sensuous pleasure, her eyes closed, her body throbbing with delight.

  ‘Come on, I’m randy too,’ Miles said irritably.

  Georgina pulled away, jolting Andrea back to reality. ‘Lay down on the frame, in the middle,’ she ordered.

  Andrea did as she was told. It was made from wooden slats, which were hard against her back.

  Georgina took hold of her left wrist and pulled it back above her head. There was a leather cuff attached to each top corner of the frame, and Georgina buckled one around Andrea’s wrist. She then took the right arm and secured that to the opposite corner.

  ‘Now your legs. Stretch them apart.’

  She grabbed Andrea’s ankle and pulled it over to the bottom of the frame, where she quickly strapped that into another padded cuff. She secured the other ankle, then went around tightening the white nylon rope that held the cuffs to the frame, until Andrea’s body was stretched taut across it. Though it was impossible for her to do anything other than wriggle her torso helplessly from side to side, Georgina took four lengths of rope from the chest of drawers, knelt on the frame, then wound them under the wooden slats and tied them to Andrea’s arms, just above the elbow, and her legs, just above the knee.

  As she stood back to admire her work Andrea felt the familiar effects of such complete bondage. The more her body was constricted the more her sex seemed to palpitate. She could feel her clitoris pulsing and her labia throbbing. Of course tied like this, with her sex open and completely exposed to their gaze, the effect was even stronger. They were both looking at her, their eyes focussed between her legs, and that provoked her as much as if they’d been touching her. She would have loved to touch herself, to run a finger against her clit, but the fact that she couldn’t, the fact that she was completely helpless, only increased her arousal. She struggled for a moment, not to try to escape, but because she wanted to feel exactly how powerless she was.

  Georgina turned to her husband. She took his erect cock in her hand and squeezed it. ‘Are you ready?’ she asked unnecessari
ly.

  He nodded, taking hold of the waistband of her French knickers and pulling them down to her thighs. She shook her legs until the knickers fell to the floor, then stepped out of them.

  Georgina knelt on the frame at Andrea’s side. She swung one thigh over Andrea’s body so she was straddling it, and moved back until her sex was posed above Andrea’s face. Andrea gazed up at her, the flesh above the stocking tops soft and inviting. Her sex mound was covered with auburn hair, and Andrea could see the scarlet flesh of her wet vagina.

  Miles was kneeling on the frame too, between Andrea’s outstretched arms. He shuffled on his knees until his cock was sprouting over Andrea’s face too, his glans no more than an inch from his wife’s sex. A tear of fluid had escaped his urethra and was running down his shaft.

  ‘Lick it,’ Georgina ordered.

  For a moment Andrea wasn’t sure what she was meant to do, but then Miles lowered his cock down onto her face, pressing his glans against her lips. She shuddered with excitement as she licked the rigid flesh as if it were an ice-lolly. She managed to stroke her tongue around it and draw his whole cock down into her mouth, tightening her lips around it and sucking it deep. Again the bondage aroused her. The fact that she could hardly move any other part of her body seemed to concentrate her senses on her mouth. She sucked him diligently, trying to raise her head off the frame to get him even deeper.

  Miles pulled away, his cock covered with Andrea’s saliva. Almost immediately Georgina sank down and her sex planted itself firmly on Andrea’s mouth.

  ‘My turn,’ she said.

  Andrea kissed her sex greedily, crushing her lips against her labia. She tried to bury her tongue into Georgina’s satiny vagina, but couldn’t get it very far.

  ‘My arse, do that,’ Georgina said crudely, her voice strained with passion.

  Andrea shifted her mouth back slightly, her tongue working its way to the little puckered star of Georgina’s anus. She had never done this to either a man or a woman, but was much too aroused to give that a second thought. She pushed her tongue up and felt the little entrance resist. She persisted, squirming her tongue from side to side, and suddenly the muscles relaxed and her tongue was enveloped in a tight, hot tube of flesh.