Perfect Slave (6 page)

Hawksworth raised the whip again. This cut was lower, almost on her thighs but clearly more painful as the girl reared up and cried out loudly before taking hold of her ankles again.

‘Thank you, sir, may I have another?' the girl intoned through gritted teeth.

The riding crop had a thick leather loop at one end. Hawksworth wriggled this under the gusset of the panties until the heft of the whip was bisected by it. Then he yanked the whip upward, making the gusset bite even more deeply into her sex. Julia moaned.

Two bright red stripes had appeared on her big buttocks. Hawksworth pulled the whip out from under the panties then raised it again. The whip whistled as if fell. This was the hardest blow of all and the girl cried out in pain.

‘Thank you, sir.'

‘Very good, Julia. You may go.' He held out the whip.

Andrea sat down on the sofa as the maid pulled the tight skirt down over her buttocks, took the whip from Hawksworth's hand, replaced it in the umbrella stand and walked back to the dining room.

Hawksworth sat in a large leather wing-chair, immediately opposite Andrea.

‘That is what you want, isn't it?'

Andrea sipped her brandy. Her hand was trembling. Every stroke of the whip had affected her quite as much as it had affected the maid. Her own bottom was tingling, her nipples were so hard they felt like little pebbles, and her sex was alive, squirming internally as if a little snake had crawled into her vagina. There was no point lying. ‘How did you know?'

‘I told you, it's instinctive, something of a gift.'

‘Do a lot of women respond in this way?'

‘Not many. Shall we say a select few?' He smiled again.

Andrea was trying to think but her emotions were in a spin. She suddenly realised that though she'd suspected that Hawksworth had invited her to dinner precisely because he had in some way responded to her innermost needs, she had not thought any further than that. Now, faced with the fact that she was completely exposed, that he seemed to know everything there was to know about her sexuality, she hadn't the faintest idea what was going to happen next. Was she supposed to tear all her clothes off, kneel at his feet and beg him to whip her?

He seemed to sense her unease. ‘Don't worry; it takes some getting used to,' he said quietly.

‘What do you want from me?' she asked.

‘The precise reverse of what you want from me. You have never had a master, have you, Andrea?'

It was the first time he had used her name.

‘No. I only... I only had dreams, fantasies...'

‘Of course. The question is whether you want those fantasies to come true. That is only something you can answer for yourself. I have, how shall we put it, trained several women. You are very attractive. I would enjoy training you. I can arrange for you to be released from your work for a period of four weeks. You will come here to this house. There are only two conditions. First, you must obey without question. If you do not you will be sent away. If you do, at the end of the four weeks I will give you a choice.'

‘What kind of a choice?'

‘That will depend on your performance.'

‘And the second condition?'

Hawksworth sipped his brandy, his long fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass. ‘It is a test. A simple test. There is a stark difference between fantasy and reality. It is simply a waste of my time if the reality proves too... difficult, for you.'

‘It won't,' Andrea said decisively. The tendrils of excitement were wrapping themselves around her heart. What she had wanted for so long was actually going to happen. She had found a real master.

‘Good. Then shall we go?'

She finished the brandy and got to her feet. Without a word Hawksworth led her through to the back of the house. They arrived at a small door at the end of a long corridor. He opened it.

‘Go inside. Take off all your clothes apart from your panties. What size shoe do you take?'

‘Five.'

‘I will be back in five minutes.'

The room was bare apart from a metal-framed single bed. Quickly, not wanting to allow herself to think too much about what she was doing, Andrea took her dress off and laid it neatly on the bed. She took off her shoes and her tights, and the black strapless bra she was wearing, then sat on the bed with her hands on her knees. She didn't think she had ever felt so excited in her entire life.

The door opened. ‘Please take your watch off too,' Hawksworth said. He had changed into a heavy scarlet velvet robe, braided in gold thread. Andrea obeyed. He appeared hardly to glance at her body.

‘Now follow me.'

The room next door was the same size but quite different. It was carpeted in heavy black cord, which had also been used to line the walls and the ceiling, and even the back of the doors. Hanging from three wooden beams that traversed the ceiling were a selection of pulleys, chains, and leather straps. There was a metal frame in one corner, about the size of a double bed, and a number of metal rings on one wall clearly used to spread-eagle a victim in a standing position. But most frightening of all, there was a rack on the wall behind the door which held every conceivable type of instrument of flagellation, from riding crops to tawses, paddles and cat-o-nine-tails.

Next to this rack was a large wooden cupboard, its double doors firmly closed.

‘Put on those shoes.'

There was a pair of white patent leather high heels in the middle of the floor. Andrea stepped into them. The heels were so high they pushed her feet into an almost vertical position.

‘I want you to get out all the equipment I am going to use,' Hawksworth said calmly. ‘In the cupboard. Do you understand?'

‘Yes.'

‘Good. We'll start with a gag...'

 

 

 

‘So what happened?'

It had been a mistake to tell Pam that she was having dinner with Charles Darrington Hawksworth.

‘He offered me a job.'

‘A job?'

Yes. After the excesses of Saturday night Hawksworth had cut her down from her bondage and taken her back into the room next door. He'd left her alone while she got dressed, then took her back into the sitting room. He told her to go into the office on Monday morning, hand over any important work and tell everyone, including her immediate boss, that she was being assigned to his personal staff for a trial period of one month. It was almost the truth, after all.

‘He wants me to sort out all his computers.'

‘God. And I thought it was going to be something a hell of a lot more romantic.'

‘Don't be silly, Pam.'

‘So how long will you be gone?'

‘A month.'

‘He is very dishy. I suppose if you are going to be working with him personally you might get to know him a lot better.' Pam stuck her tongue out and wriggled it about obscenely.

‘I doubt it,' Andrea lied. ‘Listen, I'd better go. I've got to go and see Gordon before I leave.'

‘See you in a month then. And if you can't be good be careful.' Pam held up two fingers and mimed rolling a condom over them.

‘You're incorrigible.'

‘Ask him if he wants another assistant. I could show him a good time.'

But would you be prepared to be bound and whipped by him, Andrea thought. Pam's sex life, as far as she knew, was extensive but conventional.

‘See you then,' she said.

Andrea walked out of the office. After ten minutes with Gordon Plait, her boss, she walked out of the building too.

She supposed she should have asked Charles Hawksworth if she could think everything over before she made up her mind, but what would have been the point? What happened on Saturday had changed her life. It was an opportunity and she intended to grab it with both hands.

 

He arranged for the car to pick her up at four-thirty. His instructions had been very specific. She was to wear a plain dress with no underwear or tights, and a pair of flat-heeled shoes. She was not to wear any make-up or jewellery, or her watch. The only possession she would bring with her was the keys to her flat. Someone would be assigned to look after it while she was away.

So, standing at her bedroom window, acutely aware of the fact she was wearing neither panties nor a bra, she had watched the black Mercedes with its opaque black windows pull up at the curb at twenty minutes past the hour. At four-thirty precisely the blond chauffeur got out and rang the doorbell.

Andrea took a last look around, double locked her flat door and ran down the stairs.

The chauffeur was waiting by the car. He opened the rear passenger door for her but did not smile or say a word as she climbed in.

‘Good afternoon.'

The voice startled Andrea. Sitting in the back of the car with her long legs crossed, was Laurie Angelis. She was wearing a wrap-over white silk blouse, a knee-length black leather skirt, shiny gunmetal grey nylons, and calf-length boots with a stiletto heel. Her long jet-black hair was pinned into a tight chignon, revealing the sinews of her neck. Andrea noticed her fingernails were painted with a deep-blue varnish.

Andrea sat on the seat next to her, and the chauffeur closed the door and got behind the wheel.

‘I thought...'

‘Don't think from now on,' Laurie interrupted sternly, as the car pulled away. The glass divider between the passengers and the driver was open. Laurie pressed a button and it glided up with a whirr of electric motors. ‘That's better,' she said. ‘Now we have our privacy. Mr Hawksworth likes me to prepare all his little...' she appeared to be searching for the right word, ‘chicks, personally. So there are no misunderstandings. Give me your keys.'

Andrea hadn't factored Laurie into the equation. But she suddenly remembered what Hawksworth had said over dinner, that Laurie was responsible for enforcing discipline. If the ‘training' Charles Hawksworth had talked about was conducted at the manor, it looked as though Laurie would be on hand to supervise. She handed her the keys. The brunette put them into a small black handbag at the side of her seat.

‘What are you wearing?'

‘Just this dress and the shoes,' Andrea said. ‘That's what I was told.'

‘Take them off.'

‘What?'

‘You heard. Get on your knees and take them off.'

‘Can't I wait until we get to the house?'

‘Andrea, I thought it had been explained to you. You are here to obey. That's all. If you do not wish to do as you're told I'll get George to turn around and take you home. It's as simple as that. Now I will not ask you again.'

In Andrea's mind she had seen herself alone with Charles Hawksworth, alone as they had been on Saturday night. But clearly Laurie was acting on his orders, and if she wanted to see him again she had little choice but to obey. She looked at the driver. He was paying no attention to her, but there was no doubt he would be able to see everything in the rear-view mirror.

Andrea slid to her knees. The spacious floor of the stretch Mercedes was covered in thick carpet. She unbuttoned the dress and reluctantly pulled it off, her breasts quivering. The car came to a halt at a set of traffic lights and she saw people on the pavement peering in, trying to see through the opaque black glass; if the car carried some notable celebrity. Fortunately, Andrea knew, all they would be able to see was a reflection of their own faces.

The car pulled off again.

‘Now your shoes,' Laurie said, her voice betraying no emotion.

Andrea slipped her shoes off.

‘I want you to kneel on all fours facing front.'

Again Andrea saw no alternative but to obey.

‘Open your knees, girl. I want to take a good look at you.'

This was not what Andrea had imagined her journey would be like. She'd imagined herself sitting in the luxurious car drinking champagne and enjoying the anticipation of what Charles Hawksworth would do to her when she got to the manor. She had not expected to be kneeling naked at Laurie Angelis' feet, being made to obey her every command.

But as she eased her knees apart, intensely aware of the fact that in this position her sex was completely exposed, she felt a strong stab of excitement.

The car had stopped again. This time Andrea could see the chauffeur's eyes looking at her in the rear-view mirror. She wondered how many times he had seen such a spectacle.

‘Do you shave?' Laurie asked.

‘No.'

‘In future you will address me as Ms Angelis.'

‘Yes, Ms Angelis.' For some reason that litany produced another sharp pang of arousal. She felt her nipples stiffening.

‘Not much hair.'

Andrea heard the rasp of nylon as Laurie uncrossed her legs. Slowly she extended her foot. The black leather toe of her boot ran up the inside of Andrea's thigh until it was touching her labia. Andrea shuddered. A woman had never touched her so intimately before.