by Leigh Turner
Jane paused, dumbfounded. Then she broke into peals of laughter.
‘I do like your style, Lena. We could use that scenario to test their business presentation skills next year.’
Lena forced a smile, tempered by puzzlement, as Jane’s voice hardened.
‘Let’s get one thing straight. It’s not going to happen like that with me. If it comes right down to it I’m quite capable of shutting the whole thing down and finding another way of amusing myself. And then what would you have?
‘And don’t start talking about the photos. I would like to maintain face with the students in the near future, but as for the wider picture, I’m quite capable of living with a bit of notoriety if it means carrying on, on my own terms. It might even add to our marketing, if I go more mainstream. Any publicity is good publicity, they say.
‘So again, tread carefully, I’m not above pulling the sinful temple down about our ears.’
Lena remained quiet now. Jane resumed.
‘So let’s move on and talk business. What did you have in mind?
‘Thirty per cent?’
‘Well, it’s a starting point but I can’t see it, really. Nick has 20 per cent for a start. It’s his nest egg, given that we have a pre-nuptial cutting him out of my other money and property. And I would like to look after Celia, Inez, and Vanessa if we’re talking about shares. I thought the wages were quite generous, but I suppose shares are fair. They’ve helped a lot. Five per cent, for example, doesn’t sound a lot but the profits are extremely good. The American market is huge.’
‘How much?’
‘I’ll let Celia show you the figures tomorrow. But you must agree a percentage first that we can all live with. You won’t be disappointed.’
Lena shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
‘Think about it today and we’ll talk about it tomorrow. Now, what did you have in mind otherwise? I believe I owe you a forfeit.’
Lena’s face brightened. ‘Yes. Wait while I get changed.’
Lena returned wearing a black leather greatcoat. High-heeled boots were visible below it. Summoned to the hall, Jane saw Max, in jeans and T-shirt, and Oliver in his white robe.
Max, who was carrying a video camera, led the way out of the front door. He positioned himself at the far side of the front lawn as the other two followed Lena outside.
Lena spoke as he began to film them.
‘Now, you slut. You have had your last fuck from my personal slave, Max. It will not happen again. Strip her.’
Oliver responded to the command, unzipping Jane’s dress and letting it fall to the lawn. She stepped out of it and forward, revealed to be wearing a large white roll-on girdle supporting grey stockings above her thin-strapped sandals, and a substantial white bra encapsulating her proud breasts.
Lena slowly undid the greatcoat. Letting it drop behind her, she stood in her boots, black stockings, and a latex panty girdle which incorporated an external dildo, thrust at a lewd angle in front of her. Oliver, behind Jane, had stepped out of his robe and was naked. His prick, unlike its rubber counterpart on Lena, extended below the horizontal, but was no less thick and long.
Jane broke the silence first.
‘Is mistress approving of my underwear?’
‘Yes. I find it highly appropriate. White, the colour of the weak submissive. And the absence of knickers is excellent. I might almost compliment you. I do like penitent slaves to anticipate their fate, as you have clearly done. Now, address me properly, and kneel, presenting your fat arse toward me. Promise not to transgress with slave Max, and then you shall have your punishment.’
Jane turned and went down on all fours, seeing Oliver’s big cock at eye level ahead of her.
‘I am sorry, Mistress Supreme, for allowing myself to be tempted and fucked by your slave, Max. It shall not happen again. I await the pleasure of Mistress Supreme in administering my punishment.’
‘Excellent.’
Without further ritual, the “punishment” duly came. Jane was penetrated without difficulty by Lena’s dildo, being lubricated by the frisson of humiliation from the moment she had stepped out of her dress. She sucked eagerly on Oliver’s proffered cock as Lena gave her a thorough pounding, holding on to her bra like a rodeo rider held on to his saddle, slapping the big rump with her free hand.
Although it was early in the day, it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that an unexpected visitor might come up the front drive. The danger thrilled and excited Jane, who supported herself with just her left hand and reached back with her right. Masturbating herself furiously, she neared her goal, the mistress of the stately home in nothing but her underwear, fucked at both ends by uppity servants on her own front lawn.
How very perversely English, she thought, as she dissolved into orgasm.
Chapter Seventeen – Endgame
On Monday morning, the house seemed far more animated, back to its normal routine. All were seen at breakfast in the dining room, including Celia and Inez, resuming their workday residence. The hot course after the buffet was served by Nick, Peter, and Steven, the latter naked but for a small white apron at his front, the two others likewise aproned, with white girdles and stockings. Nick, without his feminising wig today, appeared to be finding some difficulty in preventing his apron being tented by his titillated cock.
The boys were in their robes, with the exception of Oliver, who had clearly raided the costume room to dress himself in black boots, beige riding breeches, white shirt, and a bright red hunting jacket. The entrance having been made, he soon discarded this upper garment, for the hot summer sun was already warming the room through the French windows.
Sally and Liz were both in white blouse, black skirt and businesslike black stiletto-heeled shoes. There was precious little choice of normal outerwear in the costume room, all blouses seemingly white. Fiona also sported one, braless, teamed with black slacks and pumps. Liz’s skirt was more of a straight pencil shape than Sally’s, and under her blouse a white bra could be discerned.
Sally, knowing what she did, had opted for an A-line skirt, comfortable until it was discarded later. Underneath she had on black stockings, black wide-belted suspenders, and black bra, despite the unclassy look under the white blouse. Her nether regions were well encased, in a maxi-style Lycra panty-girdle. She did not intend to waste any time today dallying on the end of an errant penis.
Jane, at the credenza pouring cereal into a bowl, asked how she was.
‘Very well, thank you, madame. And madame?’
She could almost feel Fiona and Liz sneering behind her back at the form of address she used, but Jane seemed flattered and graced her with a snippet of conversation.
‘Very well, thank you, my dear. I had a very pleasant outing yesterday, I went out in the Jaguar and popped in on some friends of mine, Lord and Lady Cornwell. They asked me to stay for tea, it was most convivial.’
‘I’m glad, madame.’
‘Of course one can’t drink if driving, but the company was good.’
‘Couldn’t Max drive you?’
‘Max is a little out of favour, my dear. I preferred to be alone. It is my car after all, not his, and I enjoy driving. Have you passed your driving test?’
‘Not yet, madame.’
‘I’ll sort you out with some lessons. There’s a local man who is quite good, I believe. You can take the test in Scarborough.’
With that, she moved away, leaving Sally amazed at the presumption of it. Jane already seemed to assume that Sally would accept a role within her company. It was an interesting offer nonetheless. She seemed to be well thought of now, for whatever reason.
After breakfast, the contestants, without Steven, convened in the theatre. Neither was there any sign of Becky, who must have endured the whole weekend stabled, Sally surmised, inwardly shuddering at the thought of how close she had come to the same fate.
The only other member of staff with Jane was Vanessa, who sat at the side looking rather distant and distracted. Jane t
ook up a position on the stage, standing behind a lectern. She had on a smart, dark blue business suit, with light blue blouse, grey stockings and strappy high-heeled sandals.
Her speech was very much as Tom had predicted; their last task was to secure as many other people as they could to be their sexual slaves for the day and evening. Certain “conquests” were more valuable than others, but they were not to know any more detail. Points would be allocated, to add to their existing tallies.
They were free to wander the household, negotiate, cajole, try whatever they wished with whomsoever they wished. Only physical coercion was frowned upon, force was strictly forbidden, and any chastisement and corporal punishment must only be indulged in with the full consent of the submissive party. If anybody wished to dally in games of that nature, Jane said, they should negotiate a safeword, use of which would stop the activity. It should not be necessary to linger in such pastimes for too long, she reminded them, since the object of the exercise was to extract an oath of allegiance and servitude, not to spend hours teasing people, however pleasurable that might be. For example, anyone agreeing to bondage and such delights must have presumably already acquiesced to the pre-eminence of their master or mistress.
Other than that, there were no rules. They would report back from three, with a final deadline of five o’clock. Had anybody any questions?
It seemed not, until, after a moment, Liz raised her hand.
‘Yes, my dear?’
‘Is it possible to capture each other’s slaves?’
‘A very good question. It is not, in the sense that a subservient might submit to more than one dominant, thus causing confusion when we gather later this afternoon to decide the outcome. At that time, you must gather here and present your slaves, if you have made any. Their obedience will be examined by a simple test. It is, incidentally, no disgrace if you do not make slaves of anyone, nor is it a matter of dishonour if you choose the submissive path, though there are no points available for this. Some of you may feel your position may not be strong enough to prevail alone, and may wish to help others instead. The task is not an easy one.
‘But to return to our main point. Once word is given, it cannot be rescinded. However, you may, as you say, “capture” another’s slave, by the expedient of subduing and dominating their master or mistress.’
She paused.
‘If there are no other questions, we will begin. The staff are where you might expect to find them. You will leave at intervals. Each point advantage on the table equates to a ten-minute start. Fiona, as the leader in our competition, you may begin.’
The clear implication was that they would try to secure the co-operation of staff first, the leaders having an advantage.
Fiona rose and strode out. She hesitated, looking at Vanessa for a moment. Boldly, she spoke.
‘Would you like to accompany me, Vanessa?’
‘Very well.’
The waitress, or assistant domina, whatever she might be, rose and followed the redhead. Vanessa was pliable, thought Sally, and she was already playing catch-up.
The 20 minutes since Fiona received permission to start seemed an eternity. Sally clasped Simon’s hand and whispered, ‘Remember your promise. I’ll see you right.’
‘Did you know something about this?’ he asked, a modicum of suspicion in his voice.
‘No, my darling,’ she lied. ‘But support me and we’ll win together. You’re too far behind to do much on your own.’
‘I guess you’re right.’
The last minute ticked by and Jane, now sitting in an easy chair at the side of the stage, gave the order.
‘Sally, you may begin.’
Standing, she began to undo her blouse. As she placed it over the seat, she said, ‘I claim Simon as my slave. Stand and strip.’
The pause began to unnerve her and she spoke quickly, yet calmly.
‘Do it. Now.’
He stood slowly, and then the robe was off. He slid his white Lycra shorts down, and with them his chances of victory. As soon as they left his crotch, his cock was standing. Sally took the cord from his robe and used it to fasten his wrists behind him. He was hers.
‘Give your oath.’
‘I … I am your slave …’
‘Mistress Sally.’
‘Mistress Sally.’
‘Any more for any more? What about you, Greg? Do you wish to join my stable?’
The rugby player smiled his cheerful smile, shaking his head. It was time to leave; she had only ten minutes over Liz. Stepping out of her skirt, she commanded her underling, ‘Follow me, slave. We have work to do.’
Her first stop was at Inez’s door. She knocked, and was rewarded with a response.
‘Enter.’
She did so and saw Inez, behind her desk, in T-shirt and slacks.
‘What can I do for you?’
‘Well, Inez, I expect you know …’
‘I know everything, chérie. Do you require my obedience? I like you, chérie, the most of all, but what will you do for me?’
Sally had planned to offer cunnilingus, perhaps, at this moment, but then she had an inspiration.
‘Simon, come in!’
The naked slave obliged, and Inez’s face lit up.
‘Mon dieu, I love this boy. Can I have him?’
‘He is yours. To cavort with all day if you wish. But I must have your oath of allegiance in return.’
‘Not a problem, chérie. I will be there and bring him at five o’clock. You have my word.
‘Did you promise him anything if you win?’
‘Well, sort of.’
‘Do not do it, chérie. He has fucked me already and I bet he did not admit it to you, non?’
‘Oh. No.’
‘There you have it. He is a naughty boy and you owe him nothing. I will look after him for you. Mistress.’ Inez smiled sweetly. There was no more to say, and Sally took her leave.
A pause at Celia’s office door, next to Jane’s study, found Liz just leaving. She smiled at Sally.
‘No chance,’ she said.
Sally nevertheless looked in, finding Celia wearing her professional smile, a discreet fuchsia blouse failing to disguise the protuberance of her imposing breasts.
‘I’ll tell you what I told the other girl, dear. I don’t do slavery. But you look as though you might nab a few men, done up like that. A good choice; I approve.’
Entering the corridor again, Sally wondered as to her choices. Becky was not in circulation, Simon was hers; which left Oliver as the next in line, and he must still have about half an hour to “serve” from what she could remember of the points.
Tom had said to her that Jane’s personal slaves would be out of bounds; that if approached they would merely declare their allegiance to the mistress.
Did that include Max? She wasn’t sure. Was Jane trying to tell her anything when she said he was out of favour? She would find him in the garages, she knew. But, alone, it might result in an unpredictable shagging session. She needed to keep her pants on.
That left the kitchen, and Jane herself. And where had Fiona and Vanessa got to? She hardly saw Fiona as anything other than an implacable rival. Lena? She was, frankly, afraid of the cook. Her icy self-possession, her total confidence. Even when she had presented herself, bare-arsed in front of Tom and everyone as she fucked Steven in the kitchen that evening, it was with an assurance, a demeanour that said she was getting what she wanted, the males mere tools.
No, she could not see Lena acquiescing to anything. But neither would she with anyone else, either. So it was an easy choice, as she turned away from the kitchen door.
Carrying out a quick scan of dining room and lounge on the off-chance that Vanessa had not succumbed to Fiona and was hanging about, she was not surprised to see them deserted.
She headed back to the theatre, to take the bull by the horns.
When she got there, Oliver was still under starter’s orders, with Greg. She approached Jane and asked if
she could have a private word.
‘Certainly, my dear. We have 10 minutes or so before the remaining beasts are unleashed.’
They walked up to the foyer area.
‘What is it you want?’
‘Well, I was wondering … Madame, if you would care to let me take on any of your slaves? I know it’s a bold request.’
‘Audacious, indeed. But a wise tactic since I have three such contenders in the stables currently. Have you been to the stables and asked them?’
A trap. If she was not careful, she might reveal her prior knowledge.
‘I surmised that it would have been insubordinate to do so, as they clearly belong to Madame.’
‘I see. We will see what we might do. Meet me there in …’ she looked at her watch. ‘Fifteen minutes.’
In the time Sally had now been given, she went round the far side of the theatre, making sure no one saw her, and tracked down Tom. He had Steven with him, black-thonged in the cock-framing homoerotic outfit as usual.
‘Hi, Sally. I had Fiona here earlier, trying it on. She wasn’t best pleased when I said I was spoken for.’
‘Should you have done that?’
‘You have to if asked, really. Not that she asked directly. But I wanted to cut the encounter short.’
‘That’s good. So where’s she gone? Did she have Vanessa with her?’
‘No. Gone maybe to Max’s garage. I don’t know, really. Just a guess.’
She hurriedly explained her rendezvous with Jane. He had no tactics to offer, beyond wishing her good luck.
She had to run a bit, to get there on time, but encountered no one on the way.
‘You have been running, dear. Not good in a mistress,’ said Jane, without recrimination in her voice. ‘Now let us see. Which of these slaves did you have in mind?’
All of them would be wonderful, thought Sally, but the implication was that she ought to choose.
‘I know you are upset with the slave Becky, madame, but I … I would like to take her on just for today. Perhaps it may save you some work. I would do with her what you requested.’