Journal of Discipline and Desire

by Laurie Mann

  “We met and, well, he’s amazing, he’s been everywhere. You should hear some of the stories he’s got to tell.”

  The words gushed from her, like a schoolgirl talking about her first crush. My heart sank as I realised she was smitten.

  “I’m sure he has, but what did Mr Hudson do to change your mind and your plans? They were all his ideas this morning, I take it?”

  “Most of them, yes. Rock, it doesn’t do to call him Mr Hudson, he gets a bit miffed and he wouldn’t tell me his first name ...”

  I know, I thought but couldn’t let on.

  “... eventually got round to telling me why he wouldn’t work for us. He liked my plans and said they were all right on paper, nothing wrong with them, is what he said.” Lisa obviously felt she needed to reinforce her own credentials with me, but I’d already heard as much from Rock himself and quite honestly was more interested in what non-professional interest she had in him.

  “So, why all the changes then, if there was nothing wrong in the first place?”

  “He said the real world isn’t the same as paper. We talked a bit about what he didn’t like about my ideas. Everything he said made sense, he’s learned it all in practice, you see, not out of books. Anyway, he offered to spend some time at the weekend looking at the detail with me and he told me why he didn’t like some things. We talked about how they could be improved. He made me think about things differently. Some of his stories made my toes curl; he almost frightened me into making changes. But they’re my ideas, honestly, Frankie, he just nudged me in the right direction.”

  “And what other ideas has he got for you then, Lisa?” I hoped she’d relate my question purely to work, but deliberately made it ambiguous. I needed to know what else they planned to get up to.

  “I’m going to see him Sunday at his house, we’re going to review how it’s going. If I’ve got any problems, I’m going to phone him. He’s promised to help all he can. I really would like him to have the job, Frankie, I’m learning so much and it’s nice having someone to fall back on if I need to. But ...”

  “Yes, Lisa. But what?”

  “Can I be honest, Frankie? Without it making any difference, I mean?”

  “Of course you can, Lisa, you should know that by now.” I dreaded what she’d say next. I was certain she was going to confirm my fears about her and Rock.

  “I’m afraid that now you’ve found out that they weren’t all my ideas, you’ll think I got it wrong in the first place and that I’m not up to the job, but I am Frankie, really I am, especially with Rock to help. And what about the others? If they find out they’ll think the same.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll not tell anybody. As far as I’m concerned the job’s still yours, especially as you’ve been open minded enough to learn and then change as needed. In fact I’m even more certain you’re right for the job now than I was before. Do you think Rock, as you call him, will want the job, if we offer it to him?”

  “Oh yes, there’s only one problem ...”

  “Is there, what’s that?”

  “Well two really, he says if we don’t buy what he calls a left-hooker, which is left hand drive to you and me, he’ll walk straight back out.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No, I’ve checked, it may even be a bit cheaper, but Rock’s talking about re-negotiating all the prices anyway.”

  “What’s the other problem?”

  “Terms and conditions. He wants more money than we’re offering, but I’ve said he’ll have to negotiate with you. I think he wants time off between trips as well. I’m not sure, but I don’t think we’ll be his only interest, which I’m not sure about, but we’ll have to see.”

  “That’s settled then, we’ll see what he’s got to say for himself. Assuming he doesn’t expect too much, the job’s his. Don’t you think it might be better to employ him in the office, though? He could be more use there than half way across Europe.”

  “Yes, I’ve thought of that but I don’t think he’ll be interested, I can’t see him cooped up in an office, anyway.”

  When I got back to the office, I phoned Rock. I still wasn’t sure about his relationship with Lisa, but was grateful and impressed by how he’d won her over and his continuing to help.

  “Hello, Rock. It’s Frankie.”

  “Hello.”

  “Thanks for your help. I guess I’ve got some cleaning to do.” I remembered his room and regretted the offer but it would at least give me a reason to see him and, if I was to make any progress in making him mine and keep Lisa at bay, then that was going to be necessary. Besides, cleaning his place would take hours and give me plenty of time to work on him.

  “Saturday, nine o’clock.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Saturday. Nine o’clock.”

  “But, I don’t know if that’s convenient.”

  “It doesn’t have to be for you. You offered and I solved your problem. Saturday’s the only time convenient for me. If you do a good job then I might treat you to dinner afterwards.”

  “I’ll try, but can’t promise. We need to talk about business anyway, can you come in during the week?”

  “No. I’m too busy. We’ll talk after you’ve done your skivvying. I’ll see you Saturday. Don’t be late.”

  The phone went dead and I sat, seething at the gall of the man, knickers soaked with love juice as my pussy responded to the wonderfully authoritative way he’d spoken. Even Madam failed to produce the same excitement Rock did.

  The rest of the afternoon passed in a dreamy haze. I knew I’d be there Saturday and, although I was tempted to find out what would happen if I was late, I knew that I’d be dead on time, even if it meant waiting at the end of the road for half an hour. I also hoped he’d find more use for me than just cleaning, although there was no evidence to suggest he would. It made for some very pleasant daydreaming on the way home, though.

  By the time I reached home, I was in a much better mood. Problems at work had eased enough to allow me to concentrate on the other problems in my life, namely making Rock mine and trying to make some sense of my relationship with Madam. I really enjoyed Madam owning me, when I was there, and would do anything she commanded of me, but I found the thought of being under her control increasingly abhorrent, especially since Rock had appeared in my life.

  Why does she create such conflicting emotion? How can such a repulsive idea feel so good at the same time?

  Also, what will Rock think about her when I do eventually make him mine, but then perhaps it’s best not to dwell on that and concentrate on getting him before Lisa snatches him from under my nose. That would create further problems!

  I began to worry that Madam would summon me on Saturday, which would be a dilemma. I couldn’t possibly let her down, but if I let Rock down then that would surely be the end of my chances. That thought reminded me that I’d failed Madam on the streets, so I then worried she’d not want me again and exact the revenge she’d promised. That led to thinking about the street and how degrading and frightening it was but also how exciting it was ...

  Monday 29th June

  By the time I was ready for bed, I’d managed to think myself into a state of depressed confusion and spent the night tossing and turning, longing for my life to return to the normal stability I’d enjoyed up to a few weeks ago.

  Saturday drew nearer with only run of the mill business to distract my attention from what I was beginning to regard as a make or break point in my quest for Rock. There had been no contact at all from Madam, which, although it worried me considerably, made me increasingly optimistic that she wouldn’t interfere with Saturday. I began thinking seriously about how to approach my task, for that’s how I saw it, until it had become a major operation in my mind and not merely a simple, if large, spring clean.

  The drive to R
ock’s cottage was fraught. Giant butterflies turned my stomach into knots and twice I nearly collided with cars that seemed to appear from nowhere as my growing excitement destroyed my concentration. By the time I rang his doorbell and stood waiting for him to open the door I was almost sick with the nervous excitement consuming me.

  There was no reply. I shifted from one foot to the other as disappointment began to join the other emotions. I turned round, surveyed the garden, pondered the walk back to the car, desperately hoping he hadn’t forgotten I was coming. I knew deep down that he wouldn’t have forgotten, but the reality was that he wasn’t opening the door.

  I didn’t know what to think. I glanced at my watch, which showed that I was five minutes early. The idea that he was waiting until precisely nine o’clock to arrive before letting me in suddenly occurred to me. That thought excited me even more. He was exerting his control. Nine o’clock he’d said and nine o’clock he’d meant. It wasn’t his fault I was early so he’d feel no guilt about letting me stand at his door until the appointed time.

  I glanced at my watch again, four and a half minutes to go. I fidgeted and began to feel self-conscious as I waited.

  What if he’s really gone out? I rang his bell again. No, he hasn’t. Better to think positive, imagine you’re his slave. He’s not the type to go back on a deal. Besides, if my house had got into that state, then I certainly wouldn’t pass up the chance of a freebie clean up. I wonder if he’ll treat me as his slave or if I’ll just have to pretend that’s how he sees me and hope?

  Thoughts kept coming, exciting my pussy. I even imagined that passers-by would see me and know I was his slave. My watch showed another four minutes were left as excitement and impatience made the seconds drag interminably.

  Will he just let me get on with it or will he give me direct orders? I was becoming so engrossed in my fantasy of being his slave that any thought that he may not be home had been dispelled.

  Three minutes to go. I ran hands down my skirt, smoothing the pleats and pushed fingers through my hair. My nervous fidgeting increased as the minutes slowly passed. By the time I heard the door locks click and the door creak open I had become his fully-fledged slave-girl, eager to do his bidding. The reality of being no more than his cleaning lady for the day seemed a million miles away.

  “Good morning.”

  “Hello, I thought you weren’t in.” I hoped that the disappointment of being wrenched from my dreaming hadn’t been obvious.

  “No. I was busy and you were early.” His matter of fact explanation without the slightest hint of an apology for keeping me waiting made me go weak at the knees. It was as though he confirmed my fantasy. Whether he had intended to or not was irrelevant, in my mind he had and my hopes for the day rose.

  “You’d better come in.”

  I stepped into his living room. It was even worse than I remembered it. Magazines and debris were everywhere.

  “Are you all right?”

  He took me by surprise. “Uh? Oh yes. Why?”

  “You look a bit hot and bothered.”

  I felt a blush and realised that the excitement my fantasising had created must show in my face.

  “No, I’m OK. I’m just wondering where to start.”

  “Coffee first. You’ll find everything in the kitchen. Mine’s black, one sugar.”

  His instruction was less of a surprise than before so I willingly obeyed and before drinking it enquired:

  “What shall I do with all the magazines?”

  “Sort them and stack them in piles in the corner. I’ll keep the lorry and model ones but all the car ones can go to the recycling bin. Any others I’ll sort if you just put them on the table after you’ve cleared it.”

  “I’ll start with the magazines; that’ll clear enough space to at least sit down and then I’ll get on with tin cans and things in the hearth.”

  “Tin cans!” He sounded aghast. “They’re genuine enamel jugs and tins, some predate the First War, I’ll have you know. Just wipe them over with a duster. No polish or cleaner, mind! Genuine history has to be looked after.” For the first time Rock became really animated and I dreaded to think what he’d do if I damaged his collection of old cans. In truth I understood him, he felt no different about his cans than I do about my porcelain and artworks. But tin cans, it’s not quite the same, is it?

  We drank the coffee and he left me to get on with it.

  “I’ve got things to do. I’ll be upstairs. Make another coffee in an hour and bring it up.”

  I watched him leave, not knowing if he was deliberately testing for my reaction or whether he was just acting normally, but I did know that he had sent surges of adrenaline through me that I’d never experienced before. If he was testing me, then I had hope of great things for the future. If he wasn’t, then at least I had my dreams and could enjoy today, at least. I was certain, though, that his coffee order would be served in exactly one hour. If he was playing games with me then I would be a willing participant. The excitement made the possibility of making a fool of myself, if I had misread the situation, seem irrelevant. I truly felt that this was my chance to make him mine and fully intended to make sure I did.

  Sorting the magazines took less time than I had first thought. Most were in order anyway and, by the time I made his coffee, only one pile remained. OK, it was the biggest pile but most of the job was done.

  I stayed with Rock as we drank coffee. He was making a model lorry; his attention to detail was amazing. He was using photographs as a pattern and creating something totally different from the original kit. I remembered the cabinet downstairs and realised they were all handbuilt models, not bought toys as I’d originally thought. If he pays this much attention to me I’ll be a happy girl, I thought wistfully as I watched his efforts.

  “Finished already, have you?”

  “No. I’ll carry on when I’ve had my coffee.” It was the first time he’d acknowledged my presence.

  “I’m surprised you’ve got time for sitting around.”

  His tone made it clear that he expected me to work, not sit around drinking coffee and I returned down stairs to begin the last pile. It was a rare variety of titles but about half way through the pile I came across a copy of ‘Tied Maidens’, an American glossy magazine, full of delicious young models tied up in all manner of different poses. Enthralled, I thumbed through it, unable to believe how sexy some of the poses looked. Soon it was me I pictured on the pages. I imagined what it would be like to be bound and used by Rock and, as the juices flowed in torrents, time slipped by unnoticed.

  It was my strongest signal yet that he might share my interests and drew encouragement from my find. After all, if he had bought the magazine, surely he’d be interested in a willing participant in the flesh. At the very least it gave me an angle to work on.

  Or is that wishful thinking? I began reading one of the stories. In a couple of minutes I was engrossed, the dampness between my thighs growing as the victim’s plight worsened.

  “Interesting, is it?”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin when Rock’s voice brought me sharply back from the victim’s plight to reality. My face burned with embarrassment at being caught reading such lurid material. Caught red-handed, there was no point in denying it and it was a good an opportunity to make my interests known.

  “Yes, it is, actually.” I studied his face for a reaction, but didn’t get one. “Some of the poses are quite imaginative.” My heart thumped and I scarcely believed I’d said it, but the excitement stampeding through me was real enough. I knew that whatever was going to happen next was totally out of my control.

  “Well, you’ve had your break. Unless you want to come back next week to finish off, you’d best get back to work. There’s the kitchen needs doing as well when you’ve finished in here.”

  “Oh? I thought this was all
I’d offered to do.”

  “No. You agreed to clean the place in exchange for my solving your problem with Lisa. If I agree to do something, then I do it and I expect others to do the same. The only room you needn’t do is the workshop upstairs. If you’re not careful, you’ll be doing the garden as well.”

  It seemed to me Rock was testing the water as well. His voice had a tone that suggested he was doing more than playing with some banter and innuendo. Whether I was right or wrong, my pussy overruled common sense and I couldn’t stop myself testing him further.

  “And what if I won’t? You can’t exactly chain me to the sink, can you?” I suddenly realised what I’d said and waited, fearful I’d gone too far. His expression didn’t change as he kept me waiting, letting the trepidation grow. I felt his next comment would determine whether I was successful or not in my quest to make Rock mine.

  Will he continue to pick up the innuendo or cut me dead?

  “Yes.” He left the room without giving me time to reply. I was completely taken aback by the forthright answer but continued the cleaning. By the time I’d finished the dusting, polishing etc. the room was looking habitable again, although I did think that some plants wouldn’t go amiss. All the time my mind had been buzzing, I was more certain than ever that I would make him mine, or was my excitement clouding my judgement?

  How is it possible to be so decisive at work, yet so insecure in private?

  I made more coffee and took it up to Rock, deciding to let him make the first move, if there was to be one, judging it would be more informative if he determined the direction the conversation took, rather than following my innuendo.

  “I’ve finished.”

  “That was quick. I hope you’ve done it properly. I never have been able to let a poor job go unnoticed. We’ll drink this and then go and eat. We’ll go to the new Italian, see what it’s like.”

  “Actually, I haven’t done the kitchen. I thought it best to leave it until there’s time to do it properly.” I felt a sudden need for honesty before Rock discovered for himself that the kitchen was untouched.