‘This is some kind of wind-up, right?’ He looked round. ‘Where are the cameras?’
Constance laughed. ‘Talk about looking a gift-horse in the mouth. Look, if you must know, I’m a bored housewife who gets a thrill out of getting off with strange men at service stations. But if you have better things to do I won’t take up any more of your time.’
The stranger shook his head. ‘Jesus, this is the kind of thing you read about in magazines.’
‘But you never thought it happened in real life,’ she added. ‘I don’t really want to stand out here chatting all day. Are we going to your van, or do I have to find myself a big, horny trucker?’
There was scarcely enough room for them both among the crates of industrial detergent in the back of the van. Any activity of a horizontal nature was definitely out of the question. Undeterred, Constance dropped to her knees and hurriedly unbuckled the delivery driver’s belt.
‘Mm, I just knew this was going to be a beauty!’ she purred as his tumescent tool bucked against her lips.
Two hours and a further three men later, she was beginning to wonder whether her master would ever call. She was becoming uncomfortable with loitering in the car park and offering herself to complete strangers, with no more compunction than if she were asking them for the time of day. Her chief worry was that she might eventually get arrested.
She returned to her car with her panties balled up in her fist, leaving yet another trucker to hit the motorway with a smile on his face. While she had been busy with him a brown envelope had been placed on the windscreen of her Porsche. Inside was another typewritten and unsigned note.
Well done, Constance. Once again you have shown yourself to be a complete and utter slut. I’m waiting for you in the café.
Before going in she smoked another cigarette. When she was finished she repainted her lips, and then went forth to meet her master.
Instead of Jonathan Covington waiting for her, she found Gina. The red-haired woman was sitting alone at a table, sipping a cup of coffee. She looked up and smiled as Constance approached.
‘What are you doing here?’ Constance demanded quietly, taking the seat opposite her.
‘Who were you expecting?’
‘Jonathan Covington, I suppose.’
‘Or KT, perhaps?’
She shrugged. ‘Maybe. Certainly not you. Have you been here long?’
Gina smiled. ‘All afternoon. I bet you had a great time servicing all those big, sweaty truckers. There’s nothing you won’t do for your master, is there?’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Constance with a frown.
Gina leant closer. ‘Then I’d better explain. It wasn’t any master that sent you here to make a slut of yourself today. It was me. It was also me who vandalised your house and scratched your precious car.’
Constance’s face drained of all colour. For a few moments she stared, speechless, while the woman across from her smirked.
‘Why?’ she finally demanded.
‘Jealousy, I’m afraid,’ Gina replied casually. ‘You were trying to take something that was mine – KT. I didn’t mind sharing, but you, the perfect boot-licking, cock-sucking slave, wanted him all for yourself. I demeaned myself as best I could to compete with you. I even begged him to stop seeing you, but he’s used to getting whatever he wants and using women as he sees fit. Well, I’ve just torn up my slave contract and packed my bags, so you’re welcome to crawl to his mansion and grovel to your heart’s content. I hope you’ll be very happy together – until he falls for a new plaything.’
‘You two-faced bitch!’ Constance was struggling to keep her voice down. ‘You’ll pay for what you did to me!’
‘I think not,’ Gina said. ‘You see, I have enough evidence of S/M-FM and it’s associated schemes to drop you and KT in deep shit. If I have to use it, I won’t hesitate, believe me. He’s already seen sense and agreed to a suitable pay-off. I’ve had my fun with you, so now we’re just about quits. Aren’t we?’
Chapter 18
Much as she loathed having to capitulate to blackmail once again, Constance took consolation from the fact that her vengeful enemy was at least out of the way. KT assured her there was no danger of his ex-slave exacting future retribution. Within a week of their parting company, Gina had taken her money and left to start a new life in New Zealand, where her sister lived.
Not too long before, Constance would have unhesitatingly thrown herself at KT’s feet and begged him to take her as his new slave. Now she was relieved that he did not present her with a slave contract. If she was going to enter into a full-time relationship, the only man she could envisage as her master was Jonathan Covington.
Another week passed before he contacted her again. Upon hearing his voice on the telephone, she could not have been happier had she won the lottery.
‘And how are you, slave?’ he enquired pleasantly. ‘Still having fun with your Lady Driver?’
‘To be honest, master, I haven’t used it since,’ Constance replied truthfully. ‘I’ve been waiting to hear from you. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.’
‘I’m a very busy man,’ he answered. ‘Anyway, I’m sure you haven’t been living the life of a nun in my absence.’
‘I can’t stop thinking about you. I have to see you again.’
‘You beg so beautifully,’ he said. ‘Continue.’
Constance took a deep breath. ‘Master, I can hardly find the words to tell you how much I need you. More than anything in the world, I want to be your slave. I’ll do absolutely anything you command. Give me a chance to prove myself worthy of you. Please!’
‘Playing kinky games is one thing,’ he said. ‘But I’m not convinced you’re ready to surrender yourself completely to the will of a master.’
‘I’m old enough to decide for myself what I’m ready for.’
‘Watch your mouth,’ he snapped. ‘I won’t stand for impertinence from a slut like you. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, master,’ she replied quietly. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Save your apologies,’ he said icily. ‘I shall have the cane waiting for you this very evening.’
‘This evening?’
‘That’s right. I want you to meet me in the King Charles hotel at nine. Suite twelve-twenty. Wear something elegant, with no underwear. Don’t be late.’
Constance was about to protest that she had already arranged to have dinner with a business associate this evening, but Covington had already hung up. She could not call him back – not that he would be likely to sympathise with her situation anyway. He already acted as though he owned her, which in a sense, he did. She would just have to cancel her prior arrangements.
At five to nine she swanned through the doors of the upmarket hotel, looking suitably elegant in an ankle-length dress of rich purple velvet, cut low at the back and accompanied by high heels and a pearl necklace. Her hair was tied up in an elaborate bun. She was conscious of heads turning as she made her way to the lift. She examined her make-up in the lift mirror as she rode up to the twelfth floor, and decided she looked stunning. Even Covington could not fail to be impressed.
He answered her knock almost immediately, looking as suave as ever in a black evening suit and bow-tie. His eyes ravished her as he ushered her into the room. He was not alone. Seated on the couch, sipping a glass of white wine, was a middle-aged man with swept-back silver hair and a neatly groomed moustache. He was dressed in the same formal wear as Covington.
‘My word, Jonathan, you did not exaggerate the attractions of this one,’ he smiled, rising to greet Constance.
Covington’s hand caressed her bottom, confirming that she had obeyed his wishes regarding underwear.
‘Meet Sir Terence DeMille,’ he said. ‘Owner of, among many other enterprises, the Playground resort.’
‘Uh… I’m pleased
to meet you, Sir Terence,’ Constance blurted, shaking the proffered hand.
As she glanced around the room she noticed, laid out on the coffee table, a cane, a leather strap, a tawse, and a cat o’nine tails. While she exchanged pleasantries with Sir Terence, Covington casually unzipped her dress at the back and slid it down off her milky shoulders. It gathered around her ankles and she stood blushing before the man she had just met, wearing nothing but high heels and white silk hold-up stockings.
‘A splendid young woman indeed,’ Sir Terence marvelled, absorbing every detail of her nakedness. ‘Sit down, my dear, make yourself comfortable. There are some matters of a business nature we would like to discuss with you.’
Constance sat opposite the two men and crossed her legs, never more uncomfortable with her nudity. The strange formality of the occasion was not at all what she had been expecting. Covington poured her a drink. Sir Terence waited until they were all seated before speaking again.
‘This meeting was my idea, Constance. I have a proposition to put to you that will be of benefit to us both. How would you feel about coming to work for me?’
She almost spilt her drink. ‘Work for you, Sir Terence?’
He nodded. ‘I have done a great deal of background research on you. After you left college you spent three successful years with a prestigious London fashion house. From there you went on to single-handedly build your own business. At the age of twenty-nine, you’ve achieved more than many people do in a lifetime. Now, you’re ready for a fresh challenge. Am I right so far?’
‘Well… yes.’
‘How would you feel about working full time at the Playground?’
Constance was speechless. She looked at the two men in turn, unable to believe her ears.
‘Well?’ Covington prompted.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ she blurted. ‘I mean, this was the last thing I was expecting.’
‘Allow me to explain,’ said Sir Terence. ‘I started the Playground five years ago, as an exclusive retreat where men could live out their sexual fantasies with attractive women who enjoyed being dominated. It was originally little more than a club for myself and a few friends and trusted acquaintances. I never dreamt it would take off the way it has. Our membership now comprises over two hundred and fifty masters from all over the world and at least three hundred slaves. It has become a business in its own right. Your friend, Kenton, is one of the people who has been doing a splendid job of running the Playground on my behalf for these past five years, and I listen closely to his advice. Unfortunately, his other commitments mean he no longer has as much time as the job requires, so I have to find somebody else to take over his share of the responsibilities. Somebody I can trust.’
‘Me, running the Playground?’ Constance exclaimed. ‘But the women are the slaves there, Sir Terence. Surely your guests would resent a woman in a position of authority.’
He smiled. ‘Tell me, Constance. Do you feel that men, in general, find you intimidating?’
‘I suppose so,’ she admitted carefully. ‘I’m very confident. That seems to turn a lot of men off.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ he said. ‘They may think you cold and unapproachable, but that doesn’t mean you turn them off. Quite the opposite, in fact. Now imagine if those same men were to meet you in a different situation. Still the same confident and gorgeous Constance, but with one vital difference. You were available to them…’ He clicked his fingers. ‘Just like that. You couldn’t say no because, beneath that self-assured exterior, there was a slave willing to submit to whatever demands her master made upon her. No formalities. No complicated seduction routines. The man only has to say the word and you’re his.’
Constance began to understand what he was proposing. She would bring her complete self to the Playground, the woman who had walked into the lobby of the hotel and the shameless whore who now sat naked before the two men. She would not be separating herself any more. It was another huge step along the path to total submission.
‘You would be handsomely rewarded, of course,’ Sir Terence continued. ‘And not just in the sexual sense. Do you think you could disappear for a whole month, without your own business suffering?’
‘I suppose so,’ she replied, after a slight hesitation. ‘I can think of nothing I would enjoy more than working at the Playground. But there’s the other business.’
He nodded. ‘S/M-FM. A noble cause and I fully appreciate your devotion to it, but I’m sure a temporary replacement can be found to keep your seat hot. If you do agree to accept this offer your initial training will involve a full month of total commitment. That’s twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. There won’t be any time for outside concerns. I don’t need your answer now. You might like a few days to think it over.’
Constance took a deep breath. ‘I don’t need any time to think it over, Sir Terence,’ she said firmly. ‘If you have the confidence in me to offer me the position, I would be honoured to accept.’
He smiled. ‘Excellent. I’m so glad my faith in you hasn’t been misplaced. We shall work out the details later, but now I believe Jonathan wishes to punish you.’
Covington stood up. ‘On your feet, slave. I haven’t forgotten your impudence on the telephone earlier today.’ He pointed to the instruments on the coffee table. ‘Choose one and hand it to me.’
Constance had already decided. She handed him the cane, then turned around and leant over her armchair, parting her legs slightly and thrusting her bottom out. Sir Terence rose and caressed her soft unblemished cheeks.
‘What a divine bottom you have, my dear,’ he crooned.
‘Thank you, master,’ she breathed in anticipation.
‘God created you for the cane,’ he continued. ‘Once Jonathan has finished with you I shall take great pleasure in disciplining you myself.’
The instant he removed his hand from her bottom the cane swished and a lightning bolt of the sweetest pain scorched across her quivering rear cheeks. Jonathan waited, watching the scarlet welt blossom, before striking her again. With each resounding whack Constance uttered a small cry, though the last thing she wanted was for him to stop. Two dozen stinging strokes later, her shuddering buttocks were zigzagged with streaks of crimson. The sensual tingling between her thighs was a perfect accompaniment to the throbbing afterglow of the cane.
‘Now it’s my turn,’ Sir Terence announced, gripping the leather strap tightly in his fist. ‘Brace yourself, my dear. This is going to hurt.’
That was not an idle threat. The hard, thick strap was like petrol on the fire already infusing her buttocks. She gripped the arms of the chair tightly and hissed through clenched teeth as a relentless fusillade of full-blooded whacks turned her ruby, from the tops of her stockings to the small of her back. She came close to begging for mercy, before the punishment finally ended.
‘What a beautiful shade that is,’ Sir Terence panted, laying down the strap. ‘Are you hot, my dear?’
‘Yes, master,’ Constance gasped, remaining in her punishment position.
He picked up his wine glass and slowly poured the chilled contents over her scorched globes. The instant relief was nigh on orgasmic. She shivered as the wine trickled into the shadowy valley between her buttocks and down her thighs, soaking her stockings.
Covington departed shortly afterwards, leaving her alone with Sir Terence. She knew, without needing to be told, that she was expected to spend the night with him. His pleasure was her duty, as would be the pleasure of many men, once she took up her position at the Playground. From now on she would enjoy thinking of herself as a high-class whore.
She already liked Sir Terence and grew to like him more as they chatted. He had the same supercilious manner as Covington, but lacked the clichéd masterly coldness of the younger man. Even though she sat naked before him, basking in his continued admiration of her body, Constance felt more li
ke a lady than a sexual object.
Several glasses of wine and a pleasant conversation later, he told her to go to the bathroom and fix him a hot bath. When it was ready, he joined her, having left his clothes in the bedroom. For a man of his age he was in extraordinarily good shape, with few wrinkles and only a small tyre of fat on his waist. His semi-erect penis was also a pleasant surprise and Constance eyed it with the purest desire as he stepped into the bath.
Like an authentic Geisha girl she lovingly bathed him, then towelled him dry and massaged him with talcum powder. He was a man obviously accustomed to being pampered and she did not intend to disappoint him.
Taking her hand, he led her to the bedroom and slid open the mirrored door of the closet. On a hanger next to his suit was a uniform of shiny black rubber, with matching thigh boots directly underneath.
‘Put it on,’ he told her, sitting back on the bed. ‘It’s in your size.’
Constance kicked off her shoes and peeled off her wet stockings, then took the outfit from the closet. She caressed the shiny material, finding even the feel of it in her fingers incredibly exciting. Sir Terence watched intently as she stepped into the split-crotch knickers. She winced as the rubber hugged the swell of her burning buttocks, like a second skin. The inside of the dress needed to be dusted with talc before she could slither into it. It fitted like a sheath, clinging lovingly to her every delectable curve. Two circular cutouts at the front allowed her breasts to remain on full display. She eased the elbow-length gloves up her arms, then pulled on the perfectly fitting thigh boots and zipped them up at the back. Admiring the finished result in the mirror, she noted with pleasure that Sir Terence’s cock was now fully erect.
‘You do look truly mouthwatering, my dear,’ he enthused. ‘Turn around. Oh yes, almost perfect.’
‘Almost, master?’
He nodded. ‘Your breasts would look so much more spectacular if we were to give them a little colour, don’t you think?’
All for Her Master Page 19