All for Her Master

by Michael O'Connor

  Whenever a car approached she flung open her mac, giving the driver an eyeful of the shapely goods within. She would be required to service five tricks, before progressing to the final part of her test. To ensure she did not cheat, one of the five would be a master assigned to keeping an eye on her. As he would be reporting back to his fellow masters, and Constance had no idea which of the five clients he would be, she would have to service each with a boundless enthusiasm. She had not thought it would take very long, but a full twenty minutes passed before the first car cruised to a halt by the pavement. By then her hair was soaked and she did not feel in the least bit sexy or attractive. Nevertheless, as she approached the car, swaying on her high stiletto heels, she fixed a practised smile.

  ‘Bad evening for it,’ greeted the fat and balding driver.

  ‘There’s never a bad evening for it,’ Constance replied, leaning close and offering him a flash of bare breasts beneath her vest.

  ‘How much?’ he demanded.

  ‘Far less than you might think,’ she responded. ‘Why don’t I get in and give you the best value for money you’re ever likely to find?’

  He insisted on knowing her exact terms before they went any further. When she told him he was incredulous.

  ‘Are you taking the piss, lady?’

  ‘I’m telling you the truth,’ she replied. ‘On my life. Any way you want: it’s the same price. What do you say? It’s bloody wet out here.’

  Despite his reservations, the man found her offer impossible to refuse. In the minute it took him to drive to a nearby side street, Constance had unzipped his trousers and was manipulating his cock to full hardness. As soon as he had parked, she lowered her head to his lap and treated him to what was probably the most exquisite blow-job he had ever received.

  Afterwards he drove her back to her street corner and paid her the pound coin she had stated as her price. He tried to offer her a tip, probably out of guilt, but she pushed it away.

  ‘A pound is more than I’m worth,’ she told him, getting out of the car.

  It was over two hours later that she emerged from the car of her fifth and final client, clasping another pound coin in her fist. Four of the clients had been easily pleased and conventional in tastes. The odd one out had tested Constance’s claim to offer the best value for money he would ever find by ordering her to strip naked, kneel in a puddle outside the open door of his car and fuck herself with the handle of his flash-light, while she sucked him. She had shocked him by obeying his instructions without the slightest objection.

  Thoroughly drenched, though elated at having passed the last of her three tests, Constance went in search of a taxi. She had earnt just about enough for her fare home. On the way there she peeled off her clothes in the back of the cab and tossed them out of the back window. Having handed her night’s earnings to the astonished driver, she calmly walked naked across the street and up the driveway to her semi-detached house. She did not even consider what any of the neighbours might say, if they saw her.

  Five minutes later the telephone rang. She knew who it was even before she picked up the receiver.

  ‘Well done, Constance,’ KT said. ‘You have passed your preliminaries with flying colours. The Playground awaits you, unless you’ve changed your mind about wanting to be a slave.’

  ‘I haven’t changed my mind, master,’ she hastily assured him. ‘I want this more than ever, so please don’t deny it to me now.’

  ‘Nobody is denying you anything,’ he replied. ‘We just have to make certain you know what you’re doing. The Playground is not for the faint-hearted.’

  ‘Neither is what I’ve been through lately,’ she responded.

  ‘Quite,’ he replied. ‘At midday on Friday a car will arrive to take you to the resort. You must not tell a soul where you are going. Not that anybody would be likely to believe you anyway. Apart from a baggy T-shirt, which is the only thing you will be wearing, you will carry nothing. Not even a toothbrush. All necessities are provided with your accommodation. You will not hear from me again until your arrival. Any questions you may have will have to wait until then.’

  Constance had plenty of questions, but he had already hung up.

  Chapter 11

  The white Rolls Royce cruised gracefully through the electronically controlled gates of the resort and wove a path along a long and winding stretch of tarmac, before finally halting in the shadow of a huge dazzlingly white house. Constance felt as if she had spent a lifetime in the luxury prison of the back of the car. The windows were blacked out and a smoked mirror panel separated her from the chauffeur. The Chargemasters either loved cloak-and-dagger games, or so prized their secrecy that they could not permit a willing captive even a glimpse of where she was being taken.

  The chauffeur opened the rear door of the Rolls and Constance stepped out, revealing an expanse of flesh as her baggy lemon T-shirt rode up her hips. KT was waiting on the front porch, immaculately dressed in a pinstriped three-piece suit and gripping a thin riding crop in his fist. Kneeling beside him was a buxom blonde in her late thirties, wearing large round spectacles and crotchless fishnet tights, secured around her waist by a thin silver studded belt. A pair of large gold hoops dangled from the pierced nipples of her full round breasts and the sunlight glinted on a matching pair of hoops in her labia.

  ‘So your courage did not desert you at the last moment,’ said KT. ‘It isn’t unknown for a slave to pass her tests, only to then get cold feet.’

  ‘I have no doubts, master,’ said Constance. ‘This is what I want.’

  ‘Take off your T-shirt,’ he commanded. ‘You’ll be spending much of your time here naked, so you might as well get used to it.’

  Without hesitation she pulled the garment off over her head. Underneath, as instructed, she was completely naked.

  ‘Barbara will escort you to your room and show you around,’ he told her. ‘At six p.m. sharp you will present yourself for inspection with the other girls.’

  Constance walked past him, her eyes on the ample buttocks and swaying hips of the plump blonde as she followed her up the front steps. His riding crop sliced the air and cracked explosively across her buttocks. Constance yelped a loud shriek of pain and surprise, clutching at her crop-scorched cheeks.

  ‘Just a little taste of what makes life at the resort so special,’ smirked KT.

  Constance’s room was on the second floor of the guesthouse. Though clean and comfortable, it was far from the five-star luxury she was becoming accustomed to. She was about to ask Barbara where the bathroom was when she noticed the TV camera mounted over the door, scanning her room with an electronic eye.

  ‘The masters watch us at all times,’ the blonde woman explained. ‘Slaves are allowed no privacy. It’s creepy at first, but you’ll get used to it.’

  ‘How long have you been here?’ asked Constance.

  She smiled. ‘This is my fourth visit. My master leaves me here for weeks at a time whenever he has to travel abroad on business. It’s the best way of ensuring I don’t get up to any mischief.’

  ‘You don’t mind?’

  Barbara looked puzzled. ‘Mind? Of course I don’t mind. I’m a slave. I’m serving as chambermaid for this week, but the masters have kindly given me the afternoon off, to show you around.’

  ‘How many masters are there?’ asked Constance.

  ‘Oh, there must be about two hundred,’ she replied. ‘There’s usually about thirty staying here at any one time. Come on, I’ll take you on a tour of the Activities Area.’

  In a conventional hotel she would have been referring to the gymnasium. But this place was anything but conventional. The huge and completely deserted leisure centre was like a cross between a torture chamber and a well-equipped gymnasium. Constance was both amazed and appalled by the range of equipment on display.

  ‘This is one of my favourites,’ said Barbara,
showing her an exercise bicycle with a saddle-mounted vibrator and steel cuffs for her wrists and ankles. ‘It has to be experienced to be believed.’

  ‘I can well imagine,’ mused Constance. ‘Can I have a go?’

  The blonde shook her head. ‘We’re not allowed to touch anything in here, unless there’s a master present.’

  ‘But there is a master present, my dear.’

  Startled, both of them turned in the direction of the voice. Constance immediately recognised the silver-haired man as one of the clients she had served during her night of bargain-basement prostitution.

  ‘I’ve been very much looking forward to seeing you again, Constance,’ he continued, slowly approaching. ‘You’ve given new meaning to the term “value for money”. Help her aboard, Barbara. It’s a lovely afternoon for a cycle ride.’

  Constance started to have second thoughts as she mounted the exercise bicycle, but managed to keep a smile fixed. She shuddered as she lowered herself to the saddle and the vibrator slid smoothly into the moist depths of her sex. Barbara fitted the cuffs to her wrists and ankles, then the master got her underway with two sharp smacks of his right palm to her upthrust buttocks. As her feet bore down on the pedals the gold shaft of the vibrator began pistoning between her thighs.

  ‘I think she is in need of a little encouragement,’ said the master. ‘Barbara, fetch me a cane.’

  The slave scurried to one of the wall racks and brought back the kind of long thin cane a schoolmaster might once have used. The sight of it was enough to make Constance pedal faster, but her master did not intend it for decorative purposes. He drew it back and took careful aim. Constance shut her eyes, but she could hear it cutting through the air. She yelped as it exploded across her buttocks, burning a fiery mark across both cheeks.

  ‘Poor Constance isn’t yet fully familiar with the cane,’ the master remarked, poised to deliver a second stroke. ‘It may be some time before she appreciates its value. Move girl! Let’s see how quickly you can cover four miles for me.’

  ‘Ow!’ she shrieked as he struck her again.

  She did not realise how unfit she had allowed herself to become until, with the trip-meter on the handlebars registering barely two miles, she found herself gasping for breath. Her buttocks had already taken seven strokes of the cane and throbbed violently, in sweet contrast to the pleasurable sensations of the vibrator thrusting vigorously up into her. Her juices trickled down the gleaming shaft, just as the rivulets of sweat ran down her face and chest.

  A further nine strokes of the cane and the equivalent of two gruelling miles of furious pedalling later, she was allowed to stop. Barbara freed her wrists and ankles, then helped her down off the bicycle. Had she not held onto her, Constance might well have collapsed.

  ‘I shall be seeing you later this evening,’ the master said, stroking her left breast with the tip of the cane. ‘And this time, I shan’t be paying.’

  ‘What did he mean by that?’ Barbara asked, once he was out of earshot.

  When Constance told her she sighed. ‘I’d love if my master forced me to do that. It must have been so humiliating!’

  ‘It was,’ Constance assured her. ‘Did you not have to pass any tests to get in here?’

  ‘Oh, yes – several,’ she replied. ‘I’ll tell you about them, some time. But playing a cheap whore, in every sense of the word, must have been a really exciting experience.’

  Constance nodded. ‘There’s no denying that. Oh, my poor bottom! I won’t be able to sit down for days.’

  ‘Mm, that’s what I call a luscious colour,’ Barbara said with a smile, admiring the handiwork of the master. ‘Look in the mirror.’

  Constance looked over her left shoulder and gasped at the reflection looking back at her from the full-length wall mirror. Her buttocks looked as though a crazed artist, using a tin of scarlet paint had painted them. Cane burns criss-crossed and blended into one another, leaving only patches of the milky undercoat of her buttocks visible.

  ‘I bet it feels almost as good as it looks,’ Barbara said with a smile.

  Constance did not answer. For the moment she preferred to keep her feelings to herself.

  From the gym, Barbara led her outside to the leisure courts at the rear of the house. As it was a sunny afternoon, this was where most of the masters and slaves were to be found. Two attractive girls were playing a match on the tennis court. Both wore nothing but tennis shoes, white ankle socks and sunglasses. Their masters stood nearby within striking distance, with their long thin whips ready to punish the slightest mistake. To judge by the scarlet streaks on their buttocks and the backs of their thighs, the two slaves had been playing for some time.

  Just as Constance was becoming intrigued in the performance on court she was startled by a hand squeezing her throbbing right buttock.

  ‘New girl,’ grinned a shaven-headed master in dark glasses. ‘Sore bottom already?’

  ‘Yes, master,’ she gasped.

  ‘Do you like to suck cock, new girl?’

  ‘I… of course, master.’

  He squeezed her cheek even harder in his big hand. ‘That’s what I like to hear. Come with me. You too, Barbara. There’s enough for both of you.’

  Meek as lambs, the two girls followed the mean-looking master back into the house. He ordered them to walk up the stairs in front of him and fondled their bottoms as they climbed the steps. Constance was trembling with excitement. She could still scarcely believe all of this was happening.

  The master was staying on the third floor, in a suite known as the King’s Chamber. This was as luxurious as anything offered by the best five-star hotel and a far cry from the small room Constance had been given.

  ‘Turn on the TV,’ he told Barbara. ‘Let’s see what’s happening in the world. Constance, pour me a drink. Gin and tonic. No ice.’

  Not very long ago any man who had dared speak to her as he did would have been sharply told where to stick his gin and tonic. But now it did not just feel like the most natural thing in the world to take orders from a man – it was a real pleasure.

  He reclined in a luxurious leather armchair and stretched out his legs. Constance handed him his drink, Barbara the remote control, and then they stood to either side of the chair awaiting his next command.

  ‘We have a few special channels here, Constance,’ he said. ‘They’re called the house channels. There are fifteen: one for every slave room. You’re on number eleven.’

  Constance saw what looked like her own room on the screen. He flicked through the channels, bringing up a few more identical empty rooms, until he reached one that was occupied. A plump slave with long curly black hair was lying on the bed. Her thighs were parted and she was masturbating frenziedly, thrusting three fingers deep into her pouting sex. Scattered next to her on the bed was a vibrator, a candle, a hairbrush and a half-peeled banana.

  ‘That’s Maxie,’ the master explained. ‘She’s been locked in her room, awaiting a disciplinary meeting this evening. She’s been a bad girl. A master took her to his room last night. In the early hours he awoke to find her masturbating in the bathroom – without permission. A very serious offence. Her master ordered her to play with herself continuously until the disciplinary meeting, at six. Then her real punishment will be decided.’

  ‘Perhaps he didn’t—’ Constance stopped herself, horrified by what she had almost said.

  The master looked up at her. ‘Perhaps he didn’t what?’

  She blushed. ‘Nothing, master.’

  ‘Out with it, girl!’ he barked. ‘You were about to say something. Perhaps he didn’t satisfy her. Was that it?’

  She remained silent, mentally cursing her own stupidity.

  ‘So, you think the masters are here to satisfy the slaves?’ he demanded.

  ‘No, master, I didn’t mean that,’ she protested.

  ‘I kno
w what you meant,’ he snapped. ‘But as you’ve just arrived, I shall forgive your ignorance. I believe there should be something even more interesting happening on channel eight.’

  He switched to the appropriate room where a girl was kneeling by her bed, a black hood pulled over her head. Otherwise, she was naked. A plump master stood behind her caning her buttocks. The only other action was in room fifteen, where a girl in a red rubber mask was crouched over on all fours, being taken in either end by a naked master.

  ‘What did I bring you up here for, Constance?’ the master in dark glasses demanded.

  ‘To suck your cock, master,’ she answered.

  ‘Then do it.’

  She fell instantly to her knees, reaching for the zipper of his slacks. He had not exaggerated when he said there was enough for her and Barbara. His cock was a good ten inches long and as thick as her wrist. The blonde maid joined her as she ran her tongue over the bulbous purple crown, mopping up a pearly tear that oozed from the slit. The master sipped his drink and sighed contentedly, dividing his attention between the two girls working oral magic on his throbbing member and the masked girl being fucked from head to hind in room fifteen.

  Two pairs of soft hands and lips and two eager tongues skilfully brought him to his explosive peak in not too many minutes. He climaxed with a low moan, both girls catching his creamy jets on their tongues with murmurs of genuine pleasure. They cleaned him with their tongues, licking up every last drop, but remained kneeling until he sat up and zipped up his trousers.