Re-emerging from the hotel she was startled to see him sitting in his car, as though waiting for her. In her hurry to reach him she almost lost her footing on the steps. He threw her a glance, the ghost of a smile, then the Jaguar rocketed away from the kerb, leaving her standing in open-mouthed bewilderment.
The following afternoon a courier delivered a gift to her. A note attached to the gold-wrapped package, hand-inked in red, invited her to ‘plug in, enjoy, and wait’. Constance was glad she was alone in her office when she unwrapped it.
Stamped on the box was the brand name Lady Driver. The device contained within resembled a stubby pink latex dildo, with a small ball sprouting on a stalk from the crown. A cable and small black plug attachment ran from the other end. Constance had to read the accompanying instruction leaflet carefully before she knew exactly what the thing was.
When she left the boutique, late that evening, she was not surprised to see the maroon Jaguar parked across the street. Covington looked at her until he was certain she recognised him, then turned his head away. She was about to run across to him when the mobile telephone in her purse shrilled. As she reached for it she saw him raise his own mobile to his ear.
‘Ready to take a driving test, slave?’ he asked.
Constance glanced around before replying in a near whisper. ‘I shall be happy to do whatever you want, master.’
‘That’s what I had hoped you’d say. Are you ready to do absolutely anything I tell you, without question?’
‘Yes.’ Her body was already coming alive with familiar sensations.
‘Get into your car and rig up your toy,’ he told her. ‘Let me know when you’re done.’
Installing the Lady Driver simply involved plugging it into the cigarette lighter of the Porsche. As soon as she was finished she informed Covington.
‘I don’t think so,’ he replied enigmatically. ‘It’s not much good just plugging in one end, now is it?’
‘Master?’
‘You know what to do.’
‘But not here,’ she pleaded. ‘Somebody will see me.’
‘Nobody need see a thing, as long as you’re discreet,’ he answered. ‘Now come on, be a good slave and do as your master says. Otherwise…’
He left the threat unspoken. Constance took a deep breath, looked furtively around, then raised her hips off the car seat and slipped her right hand under her short blue skirt. The minute it took to pull her black lace panties down over her dark-stockinged legs felt more like an hour. Slipping the miniature dildo between her thighs and easing it between the wet lips of her hungry sex was far easier.
‘You’re now ready for your driving test,’ the master informed her. ‘Follow me.’
The instant Constance switched on the engine of her Porsche the plugged-in sex device came to life, with a barely audible hum. She squealed as she felt the shaft undulate within her, the latex ball attachment quivering like the tongue of a devoted lover.
‘If you think that feels good, wait till we start driving,’ said Covington.
Constance only had to press her foot to the accelerator pedal to discover exactly what he meant. As the speed of the car’s powerful engine increased, so too did the simultaneous tickle of the Lady Driver.
‘I can’t… can’t drive… like… this…!’ Constance gasped as the love-ball played a nerve-tingling rhythm on her clitoris.
‘Of course you can,’ he goaded. ‘There’s nothing a good slave can’t do for her master. Or am I wrong about you?’
No reply was necessary. He continued to talk, becoming ever more explicit, as the Jaguar led the Porsche through the late evening traffic, making it almost impossible for her to concentrate on her driving. On several occasions she almost collided with his rear bumper. Failing even to notice a zebra crossing, she came within inches of knocking down an elderly lady. All the while Covington’s blue tones caressed her ears, while the apparatus between her thighs became increasingly frenzied. Though the cable was not too noticeable and the activity beneath her skirt would not be apparent to a passer-by, the flushed look on Constance’s face would certainly have given cause for wonder.
For ten minutes of slow, exquisitely tortuous driving, she willed herself to tread carefully on the accelerator pedal in order to retain a degree of control over the Lady Driver. Finally they reached a set of traffic lights. She was glad, for once, that they were red. She drew up behind him, bumper to bumper.
‘Master, I… I can’t go on… like this,’ she panted into the mouthpiece of her mobile. ‘I’ll have an… accident!’
She saw his face reflected in his wing mirror, a wicked smile upon his lips.
‘Come before the lights change,’ he told her. ‘You must be close.’ He licked his lips. ‘That’s my tongue inside you, slave, and I want you to come now. I demand it.’
Her hands were white-knuckled and damp with perspiration, one gripping the steering wheel, the other her phone. The lights could change at any instant. Her master was right. She was tantalisingly close to the point of no return. She slammed her foot down on the accelerator. The device inside her responded with a ferocity that took her breath away. Just as the lights turned amber she climaxed. The pleasure was so intense she slumped against the steering wheel with a strangled cry of pleasure. For all the world she appeared to be in the throes of a cardiac arrest.
The insistent honking of several car horns to her rear brought her briskly back from her state of climactic rapture. She reached for the gearstick and the Porsche shot forward. Covington’s Jaguar had already vanished.
‘Congratulations, slave, you’ve passed part one of your driving test,’ his disembodied voice teased just before the phone crackled and went dead.
Constance dropped her mobile onto the passenger seat, fumbled for the cable of the lewd toy, and with trembling fingers pulled it from between her thighs. She had had quite enough humiliation and danger for one evening.
Four days passed before he contacted her again. At five a.m. on Monday she was rudely woken by the bedside telephone.
‘Sorry for waking you up at such an unearthly hour,’ he began, in a tone that could not have contained less remorse.
‘That’s okay,’ she whispered, slowly gathering her wits.
‘I knew you’d understand. Are you alone?’
‘Yes. But I suspect you already know that.’
‘You might be right. Now get down to the garage and into your car, on the double. There’s no need to get dressed.’
‘But—’
‘Obey, don’t argue!’ he snapped. ‘Otherwise, I may have to slam the brakes on this relationship.’
A few minutes later, wearing only a pair of fluffy pink slippers, Constance entered the garage through the connecting door with the kitchen and switched on the light. Her master’s voice on the cordless phone ordered her to open the main door. She pressed a button on the remote control box. As the automatic door was raised light flooded the garage, bathing her naked form and causing her to shade her sleepy eyes against the harsh brightness.
‘Get into the car and get ready to play,’ the instructions continued.
Obediently she relaxed on the driving seat, removed the Lady Driver from its hiding place beneath it, and fed it into her eagerly moist pussy. She turned the ignition key and the powerful engine throbbed into life. The slamming of a car door was followed by the thump of heavy boots on concrete. The shape of her master appeared in the garage doorway, the bright headlights from beyond throwing his silhouette into ominous black shadow. He had a whip slung over one shoulder, and the mobile phone in his free hand.
‘Oh, master, I want you!’ Constance panted into her receiver.
The whip whistled through the air and cracked like a gunshot on the garage floor.
‘Spread yourself across the seats,’ he commanded her. ‘Face down, hands behind your neck. Good girl. Now
pull in your knees and lift that sexy arse up nice and high. Come on, you can do better than that. I know you’re not shy. That’s perfect. Stay in that exact position. Move a muscle and you’ll feel my whip. Don’t look round. You’ll know soon enough what I intend doing with you.’
Constance heard the clink of handcuffs as he leant into the car. The cold steel bands snapped shut around her wrists. He used his belt to bind her ankles together, then ordered her to open her mouth. When the phallic black handle of the whip was pushed between her lips she sucked it as keenly as if it were the genuine article. Meanwhile, an insistent finger probed her anus, massaging her sphincter into a suitably relaxed state. She was convinced he intended to bugger her and braced herself accordingly. Instead, he took the lubricated whip handle from her mouth and pushed it slowly into her tight rear hole. When her bottom was completely plugged and she was groaning in protest, he wound the tongue of the whip around her face, drawing it like a bit between her teeth. He knotted it at the back of her head, then stepped back to admire his handiwork.
‘As you’re in no position to drive, I shall just have to do it for you,’ he said, moving his right foot towards the accelerator pedal. ‘Is that okay with you, slave?’
A tortured groan and an uncertain nod were the only responses she could make.
Covington bore down on the pedal and the Lady Driver leapt straight into sixth gear. Constance almost bit through the unyielding leather of the whip. A slap stung her buttocks and left behind a pink blotch. The roar of the sports car’s tortured engine reverberated off the garage walls, while the rude rubber ball went berserk on her clitoris. While her master pumped the accelerator hard enough to drive her almost out of her mind with delight, he slapped her buttocks with equal intensity.
By the time he finally raised his foot again, Constance was coated in perspiration and breathless from the force of rapid-fire orgasms. The garage was filled with an acrid cloud of exhaust fumes.
‘Shall I continue?’ he demanded.
She shook her head. If the Lady Driver didn’t take the last of her breath away, the carbon monoxide surely would.
‘Perhaps you’d like a turn in my car,’ he said, switching off the engine.
He untied her ankles, and then withdrew the glistening sex toy from her pussy. After he had helped her out of the car he ordered her to follow him. With one end of the whip between her teeth and the other between her buttocks, she staggered towards the Jaguar, tears streaming down her cheeks. The early morning air was more refreshing than any cold shower.
A few moments later she was face down over the bonnet of the Jaguar with her breasts squashed against the chilled metal. Without ceremony Covington pushed her legs apart and penetrated her from behind, the deep thrust of his cock rapidly reviving her erotic spirits.
He screwed her as aggressively as he had revved the engine of her car, his strong hands kneading her sore buttocks. As soon as he had taken his pleasure he zipped his trousers up and then unlocked her handcuffs. Without a parting word he climbed into his Jaguar. A moment later he was gone, leaving Constance standing naked in the driveway with the whip still wrapped around her and plugging her bottom. She felt outraged by the manner in which he had so casually used and abused her, and then taken his leave. Constance was starting to think she might just have found her ideal man.
Chapter 17
Dear Constance,
You are a slut of the highest order, as you have so admirably proved on numerous occasions. Tomorrow afternoon you will do so again. What I’m about to suggest may seem outrageous, but I’m sure you won’t let me down.
The remainder of the typewritten page contained detailed instructions for what seemed either a foolhardy dare or a particularly perverse test. There was no signature, or any clue to the identity of the sender, but Constance presumed it was Jonathan Covington. She had not heard from him for over a week and such a letter would have been totally in character. Obeying his instructions would take all the nerve she could muster and would mean being away from the boutique for the afternoon. Nevertheless, like the perfect slave that she was, she would not misplace his trust in her wanton ways.
The following afternoon the red Porsche purred to a halt in the parking lot of the motorway café named in the letter. Even though the sky was grey Constance donned her sunglasses as she stepped from the car, her faded black denim mini-skirt leaving plenty of fishnet-stockinged thigh visible. Lighting a cigarette, she pulled her clinging white cotton vest tighter over her bare breasts. Never had she felt more totally the whore. She looked around, but there was no sign of Covington. If he was watching from a safe distance, she hoped he was impressed.
The letter from her master had mentioned that this particular café was a favourite with long distance lorry drivers, and there were several dozen huge vehicles in the car park. Constance leant against her car, feeling as vulnerable as if she were wearing nothing. The honk of a horn to her left was followed by a wolf-whistle from another direction. She responded with a smile that made her appear completely at ease.
She had to wait longer than she had expected before somebody finally dared to approach her. The trucker that descended from his cab and waddled towards her was almost a caricature of the breed – bearded, bald and pot-bellied. Constance smiled at him as though he were a Hollywood idol, just to make sure he did not change his mind.
‘Hiya love,’ he greeted her in a coarse accent.
‘Hi,’ she beamed back, roaming over him with her eyes as she would a bronzed Adonis.
‘Er… nice weather for it,’ he grunted.
Her smile remained in place. ‘For what, exactly?’
‘For, uh, going about without much on,’ he answered. ‘Fancy a coffee?’
‘I didn’t come all this way for coffee,’ Constance replied, taking a step towards him. ‘That’s a nice truck you have there. I wouldn’t mind having a look inside.’
The trucker frowned. ‘Listen, you’re a fine looking lass an’ all, but I don’t pay for it.’
‘Who’s asking you to pay for it?’ she responded sweetly.
With an alluring pucker of her scarlet lips, she began strutting in the direction of his truck. He watched her uncertainly for a few seconds, but there was never any question of him being able to resist her brazen invitation. As she climbed up into the cab she made sure he had a good look up her skirt. With the scent of sex in her nostrils and her juices flowing freely, she was already forgetting that she had not come here entirely of her own free will. The whore had taken over and she was ready to savour her latest escapade.
The trucker bundled her into the rear of the cab, where they would be hidden from prying eyes by a thin curtain. Seconds later one calloused hand was rummaging roughly beneath her skirt while the fingers of the other fumbled with the zipper of his jeans. Constance lay back on the mat, her head resting on a rolled up sleeping bag, and surrendered to his coarse frenzy. He slobbered against her sweetly perfumed throat, and his breath and beard smelled of fried food. Her panties were dragged off in the same instant as his throbbing cock appeared in his fist.
‘Christ, who are you?’ he grunted as he lowered his bulk onto her, tugging her skirt up over her hips.
‘Never mind – just make the most of me while you can,’ she whispered, and squirmed under his crude treatment. She rolled her top up and her luscious breasts sprang free beneath his bulging eyes.
‘Oh, I’ll make the most of you all right!’ he grunted, fumbling his fat tool into position. ‘I’ll fuck your lovely arse clean off you.’
‘Oh yesss,’ she sighed as he bucked and penetrated her with one aggressive thrust.
She spent over an hour in the back of the truck – much longer than she had intended. During that time she and the rampant trucker exchanged little in the way of conversation. He enacted many of his pent-up fantasies on her – fantasies accumulated over years of being on the road alone – c
orrectly assuming that by practically throwing herself at him she had given him licence to use her as he pleased. He did not tell her his name, and neither did she ask.
When finally sated he pulled up his jeans and gruffly announced that it was time to get back on the road. Constance used her panties to wipe a trickle of semen from her chin before slipping them back on. She smoothed her skirt over her legs, straightened her straining vest, then left him with a satisfied smile and a sincere, ‘Thank you.’
She adjourned to her Porsche and smoked a cigarette as she watched the other trucks in the car park. Round one had been an unqualified success, but her mission would not be accomplished until her master called her on her mobile phone. How would he know if she was complying with his wishes, unless he was watching her?
She was about to take a walk around the car park to see if she could spot him, when her attention was grabbed by a young blond bearded man emerging from the café. He was wearing faded jeans, and a white T-shirt hugged his muscular torso.
This was too good an opportunity to pass up on, she thought. Constance stubbed out her cigarette, waited until he got closer, then stepped out of the car. One flash of her irresistibly seductive smile was all that was needed to stop him in mid-stride.
‘Hi,’ she purred. ‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’
‘Lovely indeed,’ he agreed, wandering over her with his eyes.
‘I hope you’re not in too much of a hurry.’
‘Oh – why’s that?’
She stepped closer, pulling her vest tighter over her bullet-hard nipples. ‘I know this might sound a bit strange, but I’d really love to take a look at your truck. I have a thing for artics, you might say.’
‘I drive a van,’ he replied. ‘That white one over there. Here, are you selling something?’
‘I’m giving it away for free.’ Her eyes fell to the tell-tale bulge in his jeans. ‘I can tell you’re interested already.’
All for Her Master Page 18