‘Something a bit more demanding. This is not the kind of place where you can just dress up in kinky clothes, play out a few fantasies, and then hurry on home again. This playground belongs to a select circle of masters. Membership involves more than having a broad mind and the ability to memorise a password. It demands the kind of commitment few slaves are willing to make.’
‘But surely I have proved that I’m not just out for cheap thrills,’ Constance protested.
‘You’ve proved you have a fertile imagination and a taste for exotic games,’ he answered. ‘That doesn’t make you in any way unique. I’ve been talking to my fellow Chargemasters – the shareholders in this resort and the men who lay down the law. Their verdict is that you are exceptionally attractive and a young woman of obvious refinement, the kind men take great pleasure in using and abusing. I assured them you are always glad to be on the receiving end of such treatment.’
Constance nodded vigorously.
‘You won’t find this resort of ours in any brochures or tourist guides,’ he went on. ‘It’s exclusive, in the true sense of the word. I like to describe it as a university of servitude, where women such as you undergo the training that will weed out the thrill-seekers from the true submissives. Your next step along the path to slavery is to spend a weekend at the resort. During your stay you will be completely shut off from the outside world. No radio, no TV, no telephones, no newspapers. You will have to forget all about your business. You won’t be kept prisoner, but if you leave before the time is up, for any reason whatsoever, you can never return.’
‘That sounds rather harsh,’ said Constance.
KT sighed heavily. ‘I’m not trying to talk you into visiting a holiday camp. I suggest you spend a few days thinking it over. I’ll call you before the weekend, when you can give me your answer.’
‘How much does this resort cost?’ she demanded.
‘Female guests don’t pay with money,’ he replied. ‘However, before you’re allowed to visit, the Chargemasters require that you pass three tests. Fail any one, and this is as close as you’ll ever get to the resort. I can only reveal the nature of the tests when you have given me a definite answer. But be warned, they won’t be easy.’
Chapter 10
Constance felt two hundred pairs of eyes on her as she stepped through the front door of the Black Dog. The smell of sweat, beer and illicit smoking materials hit her nostrils and the heavy metal thunder of the on-stage band almost blew her back out onto the pavement. If the motorcycles lined up outside the pub had stirred a vague discomfort inside her, the sight and sound of their owners was positively terrifying. The Black Dog was the kind of low-life booze palace she would only ever have visited in her nightmares, had she not been acting on the instructions of her master.
He had known she would accept the challenge, of course. The Playground was too intriguing a prospect to be turned down. It would not be easy to pass the three admission tests, let alone abandon her precious business for five days. But once she had made her mind up to do something, Constance would allow nothing to get in her way.
The visit to the Black Dog was her first test. She would have to pass this before the second was revealed. Her master’s instructions had been explicit and somebody in the bar would be watching her, to ensure they were obeyed to the letter. She was dressed like a cheap blonde bimbo from a rock video, in high scarlet heels, with a matching rubber skirt that scarcely covered her hips and clearly advertised the fact that she was wearing no underwear. Her legs were bare and the only other item of clothing she wore was a tiny red rubber waistcoat that left her midriff exposed. Her bra-less breasts threatened to burst the two buttons that strained to hold the garment shut.
Constance realised that she was being forced to act out one of her fantasies, but the reality was somewhat less appealing. Tonight, in this sleazy bar, she was going to have to give herself to any man who wanted her, without question. There would be many. She could refuse none, no matter how unappealing and, even if she did not enjoy it as much as in her fantasy, she would have to give the performance of her life.
As she pushed her way to the bar she felt a rough hand on her bottom. She turned around to face the groper and smiled, successfully arresting her initial instinct to slap him across the face. He was thickset and bearded, with greasy black curls trailing halfway down his back. He wore the biker’s uniform of scuffed black leather and ragged denim cut-offs and was the sort of crude creature Constance would not have allowed within a hundred yards of her, before tonight.
‘Lookin’ for someone?’ he leered, taking a long swig from his bottle of beer.
‘A man,’ Constance replied, shouting to make herself heard above the music. ‘Any man.’
Grinning, he grabbed her right hand and pushed it against his crotch. She felt his cock stiffening through his jeans. She moved closer and squeezed, feeling the first tingling of her own excitement. Perhaps, after all, she could take some pleasure from this experience. The biker turned to one of his Neanderthal companions.
‘Oi, Ratcatcher, look at this,’ he shouted.
The other biker, an even fatter and more repulsive example of the kind, looked away from his own woman and ran his eyes down Constance, coming to rest on her grasping right hand.
‘Buy her a drink and you might get a blow-job,’ he roared.
‘You don’t have to buy me a drink,’ she responded, squeezing his erection even harder. She was prepared to take him on right there in the middle of the crowded floor, if that was what he wanted, but he pushed her roughly towards the nearby gent’s toilet. She almost slipped on the wet floor as he herded her towards an empty cubicle. There were several men lined up at the urinals and all looked around when they heard her high heels on the tiles. But Constance no longer felt any shame. She would see her test through to the end, and do her best to enjoy it.
The biker did not bother to shut the cubicle door, before pushing her down onto the toilet bowl and unzipping his jeans. His cock was impressively large and faintly pungent. Constance lowered her head and slid the full fat length past her red-glossed lips. From behind him another man clapped his hands and roared encouragement.
Constance had a feeling she was going to be required to satisfy more than one man in this cubicle, and she was right. No sooner had the first biker spewed his creamy load to the back of her throat and withdrawn than another was taking his place. She did not even glance at his face as she hurriedly unzipped his jeans, hauled out his throbbing cock and fed it into her mouth.
The word spread like wildfire through the bar. There was a blonde cock-sucker in the toilet, taking on all comers, no questions asked. A queue of eager men formed. Most were drunk or stoned, all vulgar and scruffy. Even though loose women were as common as spilt beer in places like this, one who displayed such an animalistic lack of inhibition as Constance was still rare. She kept a mental count. In the fantasy scenario that so closely resembled this situation, she sucked off twelve men in a row. She actually had three more than that number before finally staggering to her feet. She needed a break.
‘Not leaving us yet, babe?’ growled a bearded and wild-eyed figure in an army surplus greatcoat.
‘Of course not,’ she replied. ‘I’m having the time of my life, but it’s a bit stuffy in here. Maybe we could go somewhere else.’
He grabbed her arm. ‘Tell you what. I’ll buy you a drink and take you to meet a friend of mine.’
A bottle of ice-cold lager was just the thing to wash down the lingering essence of the men. She half-drained the bottle in one swallow and followed the wild-eyed man through to the bar. Several pairs of hands groped her on the way and she smiled in response to every obscenity that was hurled. The man led her over to the pool table and introduced her to a handsome blond giant with a neatly trimmed beard and a fringed leather jacket festooned with metal badges.
‘Slayer, this is the cock-sucker.’
The big man leant closer and inhaled. ‘I can smell it on her. Put her up on the table and let’s make sure she’s the real thing. You can’t always be sure, these days.’
Two men lifted Constance onto the pool table, laid her out on her back and spread her legs. Slayer thrust his right hand up under her skirt and grinned when he made contact with the hot wetness of her sex.
‘She’s all woman, all right.’ He threw down his pool cue and reached for the zipper of his leather jeans. ‘Your cunt thirsty too, eh?’
In response, Constance raised herself onto her elbows and pushed herself towards him, her skirt riding up over her hips. The sight of the glistening petals of her sex was greeted with a cacophony of wolf whistles. Slayer cupped her bare buttocks in both huge hands and drew her onto the tumescent shaft of his cock. As he impaled her to the hilt another stiff cock sought her lips. She turned her head sideways and accepted it greedily. Another man popped open her waistcoat and proceeded to maul her aching breasts and slobber over her erect nipples. After a few minutes he had the inspiration to climb on top of her and squash his cock between her globes, grunting as he thrust towards her flushed face, her lips stretched tautly around the gnarled column that pumped back and forth between them.
Many more men took her on the pool table, sharing their cocks between her mouth and pussy. By the time they were finally finished with her she was stretched out on the beer-stained green baize, exhausted and completely naked. The emissions of the mob were coated over her satiated face and body.
It was well past closing time and the bikers began to disperse, but for Constance the night was not yet over. Slayer was a close friend of the lead singer in the band who had been playing in the pub and thought they might like to have a bit of fun with the nympho slut. He was not wrong. Constance spent a further two hours in the back of the band’s van, eagerly giving herself to all five members of Roadkill. When they were finished with her, they discarded her in the car park of the Black Dog, naked and screwed half-senseless. At least they had the decency to toss out her clothes before speeding away.
Constance was still in a state of shock early the following afternoon, when KT called to congratulate her on passing her first test with flying colours.
‘I can’t believe I did it!’ she gasped. ‘I was such a slut. And I enjoyed every minute of it.’
‘You’re a natural-born whore.’
‘I suppose I must be.’
‘Oh, you most certainly are,’ he assured her. ‘It’s just taken you a long time to realise it. Now for your next test. Listen carefully.’
When he revealed what she was expected to do, Constance pleaded with him to reconsider. Degrading herself in a pub full of strangers was one thing, but what he was now demanding was simply unfair. He refused to entertain her pleas, reminding her that if she was serious about serving in the Playground, she would be expected to undergo far more arduous tasks.
‘We can, of course, cancel the whole thing,’ he added.
‘No, master,’ Constance conceded. ‘I’ll do it.’
Late the following afternoon, a well-dressed man in his fifties entered the boutique. She knew immediately that he was the customer she had been told to expect, and hurried to attend to him personally. He told her he was looking for an outfit for his wife. Something seductive for a special occasion. Before she even asked him what size the woman was, Constance knew what his answer would be. She was her size, down to the last centimetre.
Her heart pounding in her chest, she helped him to choose a number that he thought would be perfect for his wife. He agreed with her that the dress would probably be perfect, then asked her to select matching lingerie.
‘I imagine she will look stunning in that outfit,’ he said. ‘But it is quite expensive and I have to be certain it’s right. Perhaps you would be so kind as to model it for me.’
Constance smiled. ‘Of course, sir. I’ll be happy to model the dress.’
He returned her smile. ‘Not just the dress, my dear. I want to see how the underwear looks too.’
She glanced nervously around, fearing that one of her assistants, or another customer, might have overheard. Then she quietly invited him to accompany her to her office at the back of the shop.
Before beginning her strip she suggested locking the door, so that they might not be disturbed. He insisted she leave it open. Somebody might come in. Then again, somebody might not. He sat back in her chair, planted his feet on her desk and watched her peel off her elegant black trouser suit, then unbutton her blouse. After what had happened in the Black Dog she had no inhibitions about stripping off for a complete stranger. She would even be happy to accommodate him sexually, as her master had hinted she might be required to do. But she was petrified at the thought of one of her employees walking in and catching her in the act.
‘You have a lovely body,’ the man commented as she slipped her bra straps down off her shoulders. ‘I bet you like to keep yourself active – sexually, I mean.’
‘I have been rather in demand, of late,’ she admitted, stepping out of her pink panties and reaching for the new underwear on her desk.
‘Let me have a good look at you first,’ he said, snatching the garments out of reach. ‘Stand up on the desk here and let me admire you.’
Constance came close to telling him what to do with himself, but to do so would put paid to her chance of visiting the Playground. So, casting an anxious glance towards the door, she climbed onto her desk, clad only in high heels and dark hold-up stockings, and permitted the man a thorough appraisal of her charms. Her office was on the first floor and a plate glass window overlooked the floor of the boutique. Anyone who glanced upwards would see the upper half of her naked body as she strutted upon her desk.
‘What a lovely arse you have,’ the man enthused, reaching up to fondle her buttocks with both hands.
She smiled and bent over slightly, affording him an even better view. ‘It’s nice of you to say so, sir.’
‘I bet you really know how to please a man,’ he continued. ‘I can tell you’re the type of girl who suffers from no inhibitions. You give yourself fully and freely, to any man who wants you.’
‘You know me very well, sir,’ Constance breathed, fully immersing herself in the role.
The touch of his hands was electrifying. She forgot about the open door and her boutique as she turned around and squatted before him, spreading her thighs wide. He leant over to inspect her sex, combing the dark curls and parting her fleshy folds with both thumbs. He sniffed her, briefly licked her, and then ordered her to get dressed for him. A few minutes earlier she would have jumped at the chance to cover herself up, but now she would have preferred to remain naked for as long as it took this man to pleasure himself with her.
However, she climbed down from the desk and obediently dressed in the peach silk bra and brief set he had chosen for her. The dress was an ankle-length creation of sky-blue silk, cut low at the front and high at the back, leaving a back view of her long legs, all the way to the tops of her thighs, as she walked. She was about to suggest it might look better without any underwear when the telephone rang. The man nodded for her to pick it up.
‘All is going well, I trust,’ said KT.
‘Fine, master,’ she responded. ‘The… uh… customer seems quite pleased.’
‘As a businesswoman, you don’t need me to emphasise the importance of customer satisfaction,’ he replied. ‘Why don’t you tell me a little story, Constance?’
‘A story, master?’
‘One of your exciting little fantasies. I’m sure our mutual friend would like to hear it too. He most certainly enjoyed listening to your other juicy tales.’
This had not been part of the plan and Constance was alarmed all over again. But she was not going to upset her master. It took her a moment to recall a fantasy she had not previously shared with him.
‘I have
a friend named Jill,’ she began hesitantly, suspecting he would very much appreciate one of her lesbian fantasies. ‘She’s a few years older than me and married, but I think she’s bisexual. I’m certain of it, in fact. Anyway, she comes to the boutique one evening, just as I am about to leave. She wants to buy some expensive lingerie.’
As she leant on the desk breathing her fantasy down the line to her master, the customer stood behind her, hiked her dress up over her waist and rolled her silk knickers down over her hips and legs. He had already unzipped his trousers and his cock was ready for her. She stepped out of her underwear and obligingly parted her thighs, without interrupting her explicit narrative.
‘I’ve never before touched another woman in this way, but I can’t help myself. I want Jill and she wants me. She kisses me and starts… ohhhh… master, it feels so good!’
Had anybody chanced to enter the office in the next few minutes, Constance would not have noticed him or her. The man whose name she did not even know was penetrating her from behind with long smooth strokes, while she titillated KT with an erotic tale that was unlikely ever to progress beyond fantasy. As soon as he had come the man withdrew, wiped his cock on her bottom and zipped up his trousers. She finished gasping her fantasy with evidence of the stranger’s pleasure trickling down her thighs. By the time she was finished he had gone.
Constance was glad that particular test was finished. It was just sheer luck that nobody had walked into the office while the man guided her body back and forth to satisfy himself. Had a member of staff discovered her in such a position, she didn’t know what she would have done.
KT called her again that night, to congratulate her on her success and reveal the details of her final test. She had twenty-four hours to prepare and was warned to adhere to every detail of his instructions. There would be no second chance.
At the appointed time, the following evening, she was leaning on a lamppost at the end of a street notorious as a red light area. Her stance and style of dress left no doubt as to the nature of her business. Beneath her ankle-length black rubber mac she was wearing a tight black string vest, with nothing underneath, a black leather mini-skirt and fishnet stockings. Her suspenders and several inches of thigh were clearly visible below the hem of her skirt. The mac served more than an aesthetic purpose. As it was raining heavily she would have been soaked to the skin without it. At least the rain was keeping the other girls off the street. Constance had a feeling they might not take kindly to her invading their turf and a fight was the last thing she needed. She hoped the rain kept the police away as well. The consequences of being arrested for soliciting did not bear thinking about.
All for Her Master Page 12