The Dark Side of Maggie Moon

by Krys Antarakis

  The queue moved again. Breathing a sigh of relief, she began stacking her purchases on the conveyer.

  ‘Be a pet and put this through with yours.’

  Maggie started at the unexpected voice and the hand reaching across to put a packet of tampons on the heap. She spun round.

  ‘It’s you! I might have known.’

  Meg smiled her sweet smile, ‘Now be grateful, after all where would you be without me?’

  ‘Getting ready to take over as Regional Training Officer.’

  ‘Don’t be peevish, Margaret, it doesn’t suit you.’

  ‘Well, you know where I really want to be.’

  The queue moved forward again causing Maggie to turn her attention to re-stacking the cart. ‘I’ll wait in the coffee bar,’ said Meg.

  Maggie set down two cappuccinos and settled at table. Through the flimsy fabric the touch of cool plastic on fresh cane stripes was both blissful and arousing.

  ‘You think selling cosmetics on the Internet is viable then, a good substitute for Regional Officer?’

  ‘Caen thinks so; his research department had already surveyed the market as a proposition. Donata is coming in as a consultant and we’re negotiating for an exclusive line; I’m confident we can make it work. And,’ she added emphatically, ‘it gives us the time and flexibility to be our real selves.’

  ‘At last: you understand!’ Meg declared. ‘How goes it?’

  ‘Hazel is fantastic. I never suspected that she harboured such deep feelings for me, let alone that she was a sadist.’

  ‘If we don’t know ourselves, how can we know everything about others? Are you going to show me?’

  What’s she talking about now? Oh, I get it. Cautiously, Maggie pulled her dress down to offer a peek at the nipple with its keeper bar.

  ‘Gorgeous; you’re a lucky girl who should be totally content.’

  ‘I am!’ Maggie was defensive.

  ‘No Margaret, I detected a definite ‘but’ in your tone.’

  ‘Well, I miss it: the rigour, the busy house, Le Patron and the others.’

  ‘And regular fuckings!’

  ‘That as well, although James and Jacques have called twice.’

  ‘Keeping you in tune; you’ll soon be going back?’

  ‘Next weekend; I’ve had to work two weeks of my notice because I had only two weeks holiday owing. Hazel had five weeks in hand so she was able to leave at once. That was good; it would have been difficult to have my mistress as my secretary.’

  Meg sipped her coffee and studied Maggie with the knowing look that stripped away all pretence. ‘There is the other dimension; it’s not being satisfied, is it? Perhaps you’re still in denial?’

  ‘Not any more. It frightened me for quite a while, then, when I finally understood, I knew myself for what I am. I can accept it; and, yes, I need to be dominated, but I also need someone to dominate in turn.’

  ‘There’s Carly!’

  ‘You’re joking!’

  ‘Margaret, Margaret: Carly worships you. Surely you read the signs – you of all people should have recognised rebellion, feigned apathy: ploys to provoke a reaction. Carly would die for you; why do you think she resigned?’

  It’s too late. Perhaps it isn’t; Hazel will know. Maggie looked up, Meg had gone. Botheration, and she left her packet behind. Oh well, I can use them, I’d forgotten to get any.

  Modestly dressed, Hazel drove her Peugeot steadily westward with T-shirt clad Tegan beside her. Those in the back were naked; the car’s darkened rear windows avoided any unnecessary curiosity. Carly sat calmly, strapped in and gagged, hands cuffed in her lap, suction caps on her nipples and a vibrating egg nestled securely in her vagina. Maggie sat beside her, occasionally flicking the stems of the nipple cups and delivering bursts of internal stimulus with the control box.

  The last time I made this journey I was trying to sleep – frightened out of my wits by what might happen. I hope Carly is as worried as I was; she needs to be if she is going to get any pleasure from this visit. Maggie observed her companion: Carly’s face was serene, but there was every reason to think her anxious. Seeing her pretty doll-like features distorted by the gag sent a potent surge of lust coursing through Maggie’s body. Carly must be experiencing trepidation, and, in this blatantly sexual context, it must be stirring up equally lustful responses. Maggie began to fantasise about the opportunities lying ahead.Hazel glancing in her mirror read the situation and dropped her hand to the control box on her lap to send rippling charges zipping from clit ring to anal probe, reminding Maggie of her current status.

  Caen and Hazel stood beside the pool watching Carly swim with Maggie.

  ‘She’s interesting,’ Caen remarked as Carly presented her rump to him in the process of executing a somersault turn. ‘An absolute novice: how many days did you say?’

  ‘Just two. She has no experience at all. We have spanked her several times, combining it with lots of nipple and clit play and always followed by a thorough dildo shafting. This morning we gave her a light caning with the same accompaniment. She’s an anal virgin.’

  ‘Is she? Now that’s very interesting; it merits celebration. I always think how the phrase “losing her virginity” somehow implies shame and condemns girls to act in secret. It is, of course, a rite of passage rightly to be shared with friends and family. It’s very rare for a slave candidate to present herself intact, but when she does the Syndicate always arranges for a public graduation. Had you any plan in mind?’

  ‘Only that it should be a good experience. She deserves that it should be memorable and everyone should gain pleasure from it, each in their own way. That first penetration hurts like crazy and from our position as masters and mistresses we should aim to make it as painful as possible. Slaves want to be hurt, it’s what they desire above all and their undying loyalty isn’t secured by denying them what their nature demands. So a live cock and a big one at that with totally dry penetration, I want to see her suffer. The problem is I don’t have a cock, nor does Maggie.’

  ‘There is no problem with finding one here.’

  ‘That’s good: but what she needs right now is some thoroughly good fucking.’

  ‘No problem, but with what aim?’

  Hazel considered him carefully; a loaded question she thought, recalling his speaking of fucking as a slave’s reward. The swimmers had completed another length before she replied. ‘Because I want to see her being roughly used; I know that in your regime fucking is considered a reward, but a slave’s duty is first and always to give pleasure to their owners and even a reward must fulfil that condition. Sometimes it is pleasant to see a girl receiving pleasure, but it is more meaningful to me if I can see she’s being hurt or roughly used. That’s why I approve of buggery.’

  Caen smiled. ‘You’re a wicked woman, Hazel Repton-Cooke, a fellow traveller to be sure. And how about yourself, are you in need of a good seeing too?’

  ‘Oh yes!’

  ‘And which do you prefer, rough and clitoral or brutal buggery?’

  ‘Either, but it’s hard to beat a good buggering while watching a girl being thrashed.’

  Caen smiled and signalled Maggie to vacate the pool. ‘Five laps of the trim track, Maggie, and take Carly.’ Turning to Hazel he added, ‘Jacques and James will be joining us, so all round satisfaction is guaranteed.’

  After the exercise Carly learned about real chastisement over a whipping stool: first a warm- up spanking by Maggie followed by an expert caning from James. Hazel watched all this with obvious pleasure with Jacques’ cock embedded in her anus.

  Hazel retired to her rooms and the two girls went to be beautified by Patty in preparation for the evening. ‘You’re so lucky,’ Patty remarked. ‘You’ll be nude, but I have to eat at table tonight and Mistress is in Edwardian mode, so it’s long
skirts and whalebone corsets for me.’

  Pampered and perfumed, they walked through to the kitchens. Maggie revelled in her natural sexiness and resolved that Carly would learn to enjoy this way of living as much as she did. Her hand slid naturally over Carly’s neat buttocks, enjoying the flexing flesh and the tingle given off by the slightly swollen ridges raised by the cane. She sensed Carly stiffen and knew that she had triggered a positive response.

  Zelda was in charge of the kitchen, assisted by Titty and Tegan. Zelda put Maggie and Carly to work setting table in a small salon normally separated from Caen’s study by a sliding panel. That strongly masculine room with its books and cages sent a tingle running through Maggie’s body. Did I really do all those things? She really had, and she needed to do them again. Twice as exciting if Carly is doing them too.’She smiled at Carly who replied with a broad grin. I do believe she’s hooked. Can life get any better?

  In another part of the house Hazel was enjoying the luxury accorded to a Custodian. She was looking forward to the coming evening and the pleasures that Caen doubtless had in store. Coming from the en suite shower and dressing room, she strolled naked to where her suitcase lay unopened. The question now was what to wear: she fancied there was a protocol. Taking out her only evening gown she held it against her body while deep doubts bubbled in her brain. Further thoughts were curtailed by a tap on her door. Covering herself, Hazel opened it. Isolde stood in the hall clad in a sumptuous kimono. She was invited in.

  ‘I was just deciding what to wear; well there is no choice because I only brought one dress. Actually, I wanted to ask, are there rules? When I was here last you encouraged me to bare my breasts: how far can I go?’

  Isolde sat on a chair and smiled gently. ‘As far as you wish: you embody the law, as it were.’

  ‘So I could go into dinner naked?’

  ‘If you really want to. You understand why the slaves are kept naked?’

  ‘To remind them of their worthlessness?’

  ‘Perhaps, but remember, most of our slaves are incredibly beautiful, something enhanced by nakedness. The master-slave relationship can operate on several different levels of psychology. In the Syndicate we impose nakedness to ensure they are constantly available and that any pain inflicted has maximum intensity. To them it should be a constant reminder of their primary purpose. Donata is not a member of the Syndicate and employs the opposite strategy: her slave is always dressed. It is still a statement of control. Donata often goes naked while Patty is encased in heavy restrictive clothing because she has no right to choice. I shall not be surprised if Donata dines naked this evening, so you will not be out of place.

  ‘I love being naked.’

  ‘Then indulge yourself; unrestricted self-indulgence is one of the perks of belonging to the Syndicate, but always retain an element of contrast. Come to my apartment and I will demonstrate. Come as you are.’

  From a casket Isolde produced an elaborate necklace which she fastened round Hazel’s neck. ‘This should do the trick.’ Hazel gasped in wonder: a heavy gold chain supported a cascade of sculpted platelets, row upon row forming a tapering bib that lay upon the swell of her chest. ‘It’s superb, it must be worth a fortune.’ she whispered.

  ‘Sets you apart; no need of clothing now.’

  ‘And I may borrow it?’

  ‘Please keep it.’

  ‘I couldn’t take anything so valuable.’

  ‘Why not, it’s only jewellery?’ It might have been made for you, I’m sure it was. See how it sets off those exquisite nipples; such beautiful things should never be concealed. One day the world will come to its senses and accept that women have nipples. I hate the mealy mouthed pretence we cloak with the word, ‘decency’.

  There were eight at table: Caen and Isolde, Jacques and James, Hazel and Donata, Patty and an older man unknown to Maggie. She was not entirely surprised to see her friend come to table naked, but the sight of that fantastic necklace did cause her to gape. She looks magnificent; I’m so lucky to be allowed access to those succulent teats. Donata was also nude, but Patty had hinted at this. Isolde had chosen to wear a diaphanous Grecian gown that complimented her statuesque figure and left one breast bare. Patty, in contrast, was confined by an ankle length skirt and crisp linen blouse with lace frills at neck and cuff. She sat stiffly upright, evidence of rigid corsetry.

  Maggie and Tegan were nude; Maggie would have been outraged at anything else. She had come to look on nakedness as a slave’s prerogative, her natural and desired condition. The two had been detailed to wait at table, but first Maggie had to install Carly. In acknowledgment of her unique position Maggie had been allowed some choice and, mindful of Carly’s need for experience, chose to display her new charge in an overtly sexual situation. Selecting from the vast array of equipment held in the cellars she had installed Carly in a whipping frame provided with facilities for mounting dildos. The frame’s main purpose was to enable pussy whipping, so the occupant was held in a reclining frame with legs widely spread and arms strapped to side beams. In its secondary role the leg rests could be coupled to a rocking shaft that pointed directly at the occupant’s crotch. A dildo was fitted to the end of the shaft and by moving her legs Carly was able to fuck herself. Similarly her arms could move an overhead system that presented another dildo to her mouth. There was also a facility for a third dildo to be directed into her anus, but Hazel had vetoed this.

  Carly had accepted the situation with quiet obedience. I do believe she’s excited. And Maggie imagined she detected a gleam of admiration in those deep dark eyes. Meg was right yet again. Carly was positioned facing the table and slightly higher to provide a clear view. She was clearly enjoying her experiments.

  Maggie went about her duties carefully and quietly; the rules about silence being rigidly enforced. It doesn’t stop me listening though. Nearing the end of the meal she caught a snatch of conversation.

  ‘Maggie seems very settled,’ Caen was remarking to Hazel. ‘You have done well with her; the transition to relative relaxation can be difficult. Her recruitment of a novice is a little unusual though. It will require thought before the ceremony.’

  ‘You’re not thinking of cancelling her branding?’ Isolde’s dismay was undisguised.

  ‘Oh you must not: it already means so much to her!’ Hazel interjected.

  ‘I assure you there will be burning of flesh. It is a matter of status; it has been some years since we had a member who was both slave and custodian. There’s a subtle difference between Kayt and Titty who are Slave Mentors and a slave who controls another and will, as I suspect, assume ownership of Carly.’

  ‘They are very close.’ Hazel commented.

  Caen nodded, ‘Exactly, and we must watch. Carly is quite lovely and shows great promise; we would probably be inclined to absorb her into the syndicate and with that in mind I have a commission for you.’

  Hazel’s face lit up with expectation and Caen continued.

  ‘There is an event at the Schoolroom; Maggie’s been there. We’ve been requested to send a contingent, so I want you to take Tegan and Maggie as slaves; you, of course will be a guest, so take your strap-on. In addition, Lady Jane – pretentious crap, but let that pass – has requested a novice to be the birthday cake.’ And in answer to Hazel’s obvious confusion he added, ‘All will be revealed! The experience will be good for the girl, but, and this is most important, although she can be used afterward, her anal virginity must be preserved.’

  ‘I understand, Maggie will not be allowed to intervene will she?’

  I shall be too busy avoiding Greg.

  ‘Quite correct; it is a tricky situation since slaves are common property in these situations, but I have great confidence in you.’

  Maggie returned to the kitchen filled with excitement. Zelda produced five stock whips. ‘Take these to Le Patron,’ she said.

/>   When Maggie, Tegan and Titty reached the study the diners were chatting informally; Carly was being released and Donata was undressing Patty. Spotting the whips Caen announced, ‘Coffee, liqueurs and slaves will be served in the cellar; select a whip and drive them on.’

  5.2

  The Peugeot was on the road again with Maggie driving. Since the Schoolroom lay further away it had been decided that, appropriately made up and perfumed, everyone should be dressed for travel: just simple ankle-length tubes. The pure white fabric allocated to the three slaves was almost transparent and when, they made their comfort stop at the service area they created quite a stir. Hazel, wearing a similar gown in blue, felt great pride at the attention directed at her charges when they walked barefoot through the atrium, their dresses set off by black velvet chokers. And well might people stare, for each girl was as close to physical perfection as could be, thanks to their rigid regime of exercise, diet and sexual experience.

  On arrival, Hazel booked the party in. The girls were whisked away and she was directed to the hospitality room for drinks and nibbles. She soon found herself in conversation with other chaperones, particularly Mike who proved to be a rich source of fascinating information.

  I hope I can avoid Greg; I don’t think I want to see him ever again. I suppose I owe him something, but compared to what I now know he’s a wimp and his casting me off was so thoughtless it defies description. Maggie’s fears were unfounded. Directly on arrival she was taken to a side room where she was allowed to wee and given a small drink before the leather helmet was put on. Isolated from sound, scent and sight she was further impeded by straps round her thighs. These were drawn tight into the little hollows below her pussy and subsidiary straps attached to them captured her wrists. A dog lead was clipped to her navel ring and with this she was led into position where a spreader bar was fitted to her ankles and a tether was hooked into the crown of her helmet.