“Thank you, Master,” she smiled. A change of clothes, and my face stuff. YAY.
“In the garment bag is a brand new maid’s outfit. I want you to wear while you’re taking care of the house. It will help your mindset, and it’s very sexy, which will be pleasing to me. While you are here, underwear is not permitted, but when you leave to run my errands it is mandatory. Understood?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Every day when I return I will spank you, and how hard will depend on how well you’ve carried out your chores. The maid’s outfit is very short, and when you bend over your backside will be perfectly accessible.”
Abigail’s mind was racing. What he was describing was so much more than she’d anticipated, but the sexy outfit sounded like fun.
“You’re to put on the uniform right away and come down to get your spanking before you start making dinner. I’m sure you must be hungry.”
“Very, Master,” she nodded vehemently.
“You may have something after your spanking and before you start preparing my meal.”
“Yes, Master, thank you.”
“Bring me the letter you wrote.”
“Yes, Master.”
Standing up, she turned to the desk, picked up the folded piece of paper, and eyes downcast she walked it over to him.
“I’m very pleased with your behavior tonight. It appears your confinement has done you the world of good. If you keep up this demure, obedient attitude you will be rewarded.”
“Thank you, Master,” she murmured. Connor could hear the relief in her voice and inwardly smiled; she was putty. “You have ten minutes to change, and I’ll see you in the dining room.”
Her eyes still downcast, Abigail saw his feet turn and walk out, then the door closed and he was gone.
Wow. He is so strict. I guess it’s good. I guess it’s how it’s supposed to be.
Unzipping the garment bag she found a black maid’s outfit, complete with a white frilly apron and petticoat, and even the small cap for her head, and as he had described it was very short. Unlocking the suitcase she discovered her clothes had been neatly packed, her cosmetics separated and placed in plastic bags, and three pairs of shoes; black high heels, tennis shoes and a pair of casual flats. Abigail owned many pairs of shoes, but assumed they’d return for more of her things as she settled in.
Quickly slipping out of her nightie she pulled on the outfit, finding it a bit tight, then carefully placed the cap in her hair and applied some makeup.
This is really sexy, she thought, staring at her reflection. I’m going to enjoy serving him dressed like this.
In the dining room Connor had read her letter; it was exactly what he’d wanted, full of apologies for her shortcomings and very grateful that he wanted her in his house.
Her letter contributed to his already buoyant mood. As he was leaving his office he’d had a call about a potentially huge contract. Things were definitely turning in a positive direction, and as he heard Abigail’s footsteps coming down the stairs he smiled in lustful anticipation.
Connor’s sexual stirrings happened under only two circumstances; when the slut-slave in question was bent over, punished bottom exposed, and she was telling him he was her Master and admitting that she was a gold-digging slut, or when she was crying piteously, abjectly miserable and begging for mercy, but as he waited for Abigail’s grand entrance he could feel himself prematurely coming to life.
“Oh, this is very good,” he mumbled, unzipping his trousers, grabbing his cock and licking his lips in delight.
The clipping sound of her high heels on his hardwood floor told him she’d reached the bottom of the stairs, and looking up he saw her moving towards him.
You are so incredibly stupid, you really are slut-slave perfection.
“Over the table and spread your legs,” he directed.
Butterflies fluttering, she nervously walked across the room and laid herself across the flame mahogany table. To Connor’s delight it wasn’t easy for her to keep her legs apart in the high-heels, and as he’d expected, bent over as she was, the maid’s skirt offered no coverage; her bottom was completely bare, inviting his attention.
Removing his belt he wrapped the buckle end around his hand, and without a word or a moment’s hesitation he lashed it across her exposed backside. She gasped and wriggled, and when the leather thrashed a second time she wailed. The third strike stunned her, and she lifted her head, and throwing her hands behind her she grasped her striped, stinging seat, just as he knew she would.
“I am your Master, and you must show me what a slut you are?” he snarled. “Spread those cheeks for me. Spread them and tell me what a gold-digging slut you are.”
“Oooh, Master,” she wailed, humiliation washing over her. “I’m a gold-digging slut.”
“Spread them!” he barked.
His cock was already swollen and stiff, a miracle for it to have surged to attention so quickly.
“I’m a gold-digging slut,” she repeated.
“If you don’t do as your told l’ll whip your ass and lock you back in that room.”
“Oooh, Master,” she sobbed.
Gritting her teeth she pulled her cheeks apart, wishing the table would magically break in two and the floor would swallow her up.
“I’m a gold-digging slut, showing myself proves it. You are my Master and your gold-digging slut,” she wailed, hoping it would be enough to bring the horrendous scene to an end.
It was.
His cock exploded with a force he’d not felt in years, the spasms shuddering through his loins as he roared his hot, powerful pleasure, his hand vigorously rubbing, milking every last delicious second.
Breathless he leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes to enjoy the warm tingling that permeated his being, and when he finally opened them he saw she’d not moved from her lewd position.
His flaccid member was still in his hand, its cream dribbling across his fingers, and he broke into a broad grin; he was King Of His Castle once again, the Supreme Commander, and the slut-slave would lick his hand clean and wash his cock with her tongue to show her undying devotion.
“Drop your hands and kneel before me,” he said gruffly.
His voice was as cold and hard as the mahogany wood upon which she rested her face, and she felt its icy claws travel up the length of her spine, wrap themselves around her neck and squeeze. From deep within her, the old soul that lived quietly in her heart, surfacing when Abigail read palms or was in desperate need of wisdom, began to whisper.
What are you doing Abigail? This man is not a caring, loving, Dominant, he’s a cruel, hateful psychopathic vampire. He’ll consume you if you stay here. Be brave Abigail, be brave and be smart.
Sniffling, finding her voice, terrified but determined, Abigail rose slowly and turned to face him.
“Connor, I don’t want to stay here.”
Her voice was so low and so soft he thought he may have misheard.
“What did you just say?”
“I, uh, don’t want…”
Hastily zipping up his trousers he strode forward, and in a swift, deft maneuver, threw her over his shoulder, deciding to take her to the garden shed; the cage may be gone but the shed was still lockable.
Abigail, seized by panic, began kicking and screaming, causing such a racket he realized he couldn’t risk carrying her across the backyard and the bedroom would have to do, and turning, he began to head towards the stairs.
Be brave and be smart…
Though filled with fright, the whispered words echoed through her panic and she stopped the protest, forcing her body to fall completely limp.
Damn, did she just break or has she fainted on me? Oh, I’d loved to be served dinner by a terrified, broken slut-slave. The food tastes so much better when the hand serving is also shaking.
“Do you have something to say to me?” he growled, hoping she’d answer.
“Yes, Master,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper.<
br />
“If I put you down will you behave?”
“Absolutely, Master,” she promised.
He pulled her from his shoulder and stood her in front of him, then yanked her head back with a fistful of hair. To his great delight she looked pale and petrified.
“I am so sorry for throwing such a tantrum,” she whined. “I think it was being locked up for so long, and I’m so hungry. I was all emotional and everything.”
“I should lock you up again,” he growled. “If I let cook my dinner, you’ll obey me completely?”
“Absolutely, Master.”
“Go in the kitchen, eat something, then prepare my meal, steak and broccoli. While you’re cooking I’ll decide what’s to be done with you.”
“Yes, Master,” she whimpered, turning to leave.
“Wait,” he barked.
“Yes, Master?”
“Kneel in front of me, kiss my crotch and swear undying devotion.”
She shuffled around and fell in front of him, placing her lips on his zipper.
“I swear my undying devotion to you,” she whispered.
“Repeat after me,” he boomed. “You are my Lord and Master,”
“You are my Lord and Master,”
“I shall obey you, no matter the request.”
“I shall obey you, no matter the request,
“I shall live only to serve you.”
“I shall live only to serve you.”
“On your feet,” he snarled, gripping her hair and pulling her up. “You are my slut-slave. No more, no less.”
“Thank you, Master. I understand,” and I hate you with everything in me. You’re a freak, a monster, and I will get away from you. I don’t know how or when, but I will.
“You may go,” he decreed.
Quaking with fear she entered the kitchen and plopped her sore seat on a chair trying to catch her breath. Hunger finally making her move, she opened the refrigerator and saw a container of tomato-basil soup. While it was heating in the microwave she found a loaf of bread and devoured a couple of slices to fill the empty hurt in her stomach, then stood at the island and finished the soup straight from the container.
Feeling somewhat better she prepared his meal, and a few minutes before she was about to plate the steak, he walked in and sat at the table waiting to be served. It occurred to her he either had impeccable timing, or he’d been watching her.
“Stand beside me, don’t move,” he grunted, picking up his knife and fork.
She did as directed, trying to stay calm, and every so often he would cruelly squeeze and pinch her hot backside. He clearly enjoyed her cries of pain, smirking as she reacted, so she exaggerated her sense of misery.
“I see you had the tomato soup,” he observed, glancing at the empty container on the counter.
“Yes, Master.”
“That will be enough for you tonight.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“In the refrigerator you’ll find a carton of heavy whipping cream,” he declared as she cleared the table. “Whip it until its as thick as you can make it, grab a spoon and take it to your room. Leave it on your chest of drawers, shower, change into your nightie with the top buttons undone and your tits exposed, then lay on the bed and wait for me.”
“Yes, Master.”
“One more thing. I expect this kitchen to be spotless. I’ll check before I pay you a visit, and if I find a single crumb you’ll be punished.”
“I understand, Master,” and when I can, I will knee you in the groin so hard, you won’t be able to see straight for a month.
Connor headed up to his room to settle on his bed and watch her, contemplating the fresh cream he would soon be slathering all over her lovely mounds. He would take his time, make it last, maybe even stretch out alongside her and take a nap with a mound in his mouth.
His orgasm had been so powerful and the meal so delicious he felt like a nap, but he wanted to enjoy the evening’s entertainment first. As he sat on his bed and turned on the monitor, his mind wandered to the Brazilian Bitch. He hoped she was cowering in a hovel somewhere, afraid to show her face, constantly looking over her shoulder.
Exactly what she deserves, he growled, but focusing his attentions back on Slut Abby, he licked his lips as she began to whip the cream.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
In spite of the early morning shock, the day turned into a marvelous one for Gabriela. After retrieving her account passbook she cashed in a CD and canceled all her credit cards, relieved to discover nothing had been charged on them.
Her trip to the hair salon held an unexpected surprise. The hair stylist was housed in a day spa; to her delight Zander had arranged for her to have a ninety-minute massage, and as he left he handed her a cell phone.
“It’s just a burner phone until we can get you a new one, just call me when you’re ready to leave.”
“Zander, you have completely taken my breath away,” she sighed. “This is fantastic.”
“Just relax and enjoy yourself,” he smiled.
She hugged him so tightly he thought she might break his spine, but the sheer happiness on her face would have been worth every fractured vertebrae.
“I’m going to go scout,” he winked at her, and ambled from the reception area as if he’d not a care in the world.
That wasn’t true of course, Zander had a great deal on his mind; a plan was germinating to expose and capture the evil Connor Matthews, and his first stop would be Connor’s place of business.
The renovated Victorian house that served as Connor’s headquarters was maroon with cream trim, tasteful and dignified, and the black Porsche Gabriela had described was sitting in its premiere parking space by the entrance. For thirty minutes he sat and watched; cars came and went with regularity. It was a busy, successful office.
Starting his car he headed across town towards Connor’s House of Evil, and as he pulled to the curb and studied the Tudor that sat grandly back from the street, it took all his self-control not to bust down the door and whisk away poor Abigail.
The longer he sat the more his mind churned, and by the time Gabriela called he had set the plan into motion and was eager to share the details with her and hear her thoughts.
He collected her from the spa, and on the drive home stopped in at his favorite Italian restaurant to pick up some vegetarian lasagna. A short time later he was sharing his idea with her over the delicious meal and a bottle of Meritage.
“Do you think you’re up to it?” he asked tentatively. “I would certainly understand if you’re not. You’ve only been away from that house of horrors for a couple of days.”
“It’s so strange, it feels like a month,” she exclaimed, “but yes, I definitely want to, in fact I can’t wait.”
“I know what you mean,” he sighed. “It was so hard for me not break down that door and get Abigail out of there, but this has to be done absolutely right, and you don’t have to worry, Nick will make sure nothing happens to either of you.”
“Nick, the playboy. He’s such a sweet man, it’s a shame he hasn’t found the right girl?”
“I agree. I’m sure he’ll find her one of these days,” he smiled. “I have contacts on the force, but being a former detective Nick knows exactly who can be trusted.”
“You never told me how you two met?”
“I’d had some theft at one of my building sites and he was the detective in charge of the case,” Zander explained. “We hit it off immediately, and I ultimately hired him to be my Chief of Security, but I never thought I’d need him for something like this.”
“You’re sure you can get Connor out of his office?”
“Yes, absolutely. He’s probably salivating right now. Being the architect for my new condo project would be a huge boon for him. Believe me, he’ll be driving to meet me when you and Nick go in his house, and when I show up at his office and he thinks he’s screwed up, he’ll have to turn around and drive all the way back. Round trip is at least an hour
.”
“I am so apprehensive about it all, but excited too,” she said. “It’s weird, everything I’m feeling.”
“I’m sure,” Zander nodded, reaching across the table and squeezing her hand. “It’s all going to work out, I know it. I just hope I can talk my way into his private office and poke around.”
“If anyone can, you can,” she said reassuringly.
“Have I told you how gorgeous you look?” he smiled, changing the subject. “Your hair is just like it used to be, and you look so much more relaxed”
Her hair, which had been long and stringy when he’d found her, was now shoulder length, full of bounce and shine, and the tension had disappeared from her face.
“You did mention something about that when you picked me up,” she grinned, “and it’s all thanks to you. I’ve had the best day in, well, forever, and may I suggest the perfect way to end it?” she asked softly.
“Of course,” he replied, staring at her, still amazed at the transformation.
“Lay in bed with me, watch some TV, cuddle, just be together.”
“I would love that,” he smiled.
They cleared away the plates, put the leftover lasagna in the refrigerator, and walked hand-in-hand down the hallway and into the bedroom.
“I’m going to wash off the day,” he remarked, “you make yourself comfortable.”
She pecked him on the cheek, and was turning to move into the guest room to change when he gently pulled her into him. Hugging her softly, he inhaled the almond fragrance of her hair, relishing the sweet yielding of her body as it molded into his.
“When all this is over, would you like to take a trip with me?” he asked, the idea unexpectedly popping into his head.
“That sounds wonderful,” she breathed. “Where to?”
“Anywhere you want, Europe, Scotland, the Far East, anywhere.”
“I’ve always wanted to go to Prague,” she yawned, fatigue setting in, “but there are many choices.”
“You’re worn out, I should have realized…”
“I’m fine,” she assured him, “but I do think I need to change and get into bed.”
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