Perfect Slave (7 page)

‘Turn around.' The foot dropped away.

Andrea turned as the car pulled away from another set of traffic lights.

‘I can see why he wants you,' Laurie said. She reached forward with her right hand and cupped Andrea's breast. Her dark-blue fingernails tweaked her nipple. ‘Have you ever been with a woman?'

‘No.'

‘No what?' Laurie snapped.

‘No, Ms Angelis.'

‘How interesting. Mr Hawksworth likes to watch, did you know that? He likes me to entertain him. I think I shall enjoy entertaining him with you.'

‘What?' Andrea exclaimed.

‘Hadn't you thought about that? Obedience is obedience, Andrea. You have to do what you're told, whatever it may be.' Laurie had a sensual mouth, and it creased into a smile revealing her perfect teeth.

Andrea said nothing. But her mind was spinning. Laurie was quite right, of course. Hawksworth had made it absolutely plain to her that she had to obey his every whim. But she'd never imagined that would involve having sex with another woman. The idea shocked her, but it was not a shock of revulsion. Quite the reverse. She felt a sickly sweet excitement enveloping her and her clitoris pulsed strongly.

Laurie seemed to sense this reaction. Her smile broadened. ‘That turns you on, doesn't it? Well I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you're going to have to wait. Since you are, how shall we put it, a virgin in that department, Mr Hawksworth will want to watch your initiation. Come closer,' Laurie said.

There was a large nylon holdall on the floor by her feet. She reached into it and took out a stainless steel collar. It was hinged at the side with a small steel ring at the front, and was identical to the one Andrea had seen the maid wearing on Saturday night. Laurie leant forward, hooked it around her throat. There was a loud click as the locking mechanism engaged at the back of her neck.

The brunette delved into the bag again. ‘Put this on.' Laurie draped a red satin basque on the floor in front of Andrea. ‘Red is good with your blonde hair,' she added.

Andrea picked it up. The garment was beautifully made, the satin silky and soft to the touch, with black lacing decorating the front panel. It did not have a full bra, but rather small semi-circular cups that were obviously intended to fit under rather than over the breasts. Andrea wrapped the corset around her body. It was a little too small for her and she couldn't manage to fit the eyes into the hooks at the back, however hard she tried.

‘Not a very good start,' Laurie said, clicking her tongue. ‘You better lay down. On your front.'

Andrea obeyed, the interior of the car easily big enough for her to lie flat. Laurie knelt beside her.

‘Breath in.'

Gradually Andrea felt the corset gripping her body as Laurie worked her way down the long row of fastenings, each one cinching the basque more tightly and making breathing more difficult. It was boned around the waist to give an hour-glass figure.

‘I imagine you can manage to put these on for yourself.' She pulled a cellophane packet of stockings out of the bag and sat back on the seat. They were a light champagne colour. ‘You can sit up here.' She patted the seat beside her.

Andrea sat on the black leather. It felt cold against her naked buttocks. The quarter bra cups of the basque pushed her breasts up, making them stand out obscenely. She took the stockings out of their packet and rolled them slowly up her legs.

‘They have a seam, make sure it's straight,' Laurie ordered.

As best she could Andrea tried to get the seam running in a vertical line up the back of her legs. The stockings were very sheer. They had a fully-fashioned heel and a seam right up to the wide welts that banded her thighs. Andrea clipped them into the long satin suspenders and felt a familiar buzz of anticipation. Her body knew how to respond to this treatment. In her masturbation ritual donning the corset and the stockings was always a precursor to orgasm.

‘Now kneel again, in front of me.'

This time Laurie pulled out a coil of silky white nylon rope from the holdall. She threaded one end through the ring in the steel collar.

‘Put your hands together, in front of your chin,' she ordered.

Andrea did as she was told and the brunette quickly looped cords of the rope around her wrists, tying her hands together tightly and making it impossible for her to lower them.

For only the second time in her life Andrea's bondage was real. The first time was in the manor, Saturday night. She tried to pull her hands apart and away from the steel collar, but the bonds gave not an inch. The feeling thrilled her. Stretched spread-eagled across her bed, though three of her limbs had been secured, there was always the fourth. She had the impression of being tightly bound but not the substance. She could always free herself. Now she did not have that option.

Laurie had taken another item from the bag. It was a black leather helmet with a crisscross of laces at the back. She quickly wound Andrea's hair into a simple ponytail, then pulled the helmet down over her head, looping the hair through a hole just above where the lacing began. There was a small hole in the front of the helmet that fitted over her nostrils, three larger ovals for the eyes and the mouth. The brunette began to pull the laces tight, until Andrea could feel the soft leather moulding itself to the contours of her face like a second skin.

‘Sit back up here,' Laurie said.

Andrea moved to obey. Without thinking she tried to extend her hands to balance herself, and the fact that they were jerked back firmly against the rope gave another twist to her spiral of excitement. She managed to squirm up onto the leather seat, but without her arms for support could not prevent herself falling back against it heavily. She was very excited. She was wriggling her buttocks against the leather almost subconsciously, and could feel a slick of wetness on her labia.

She glanced out of the window and realised the car had taken a different route from the last time, and was not going south to the embankment but west along the Euston Road.

‘Where are we going?' she asked, forgetting herself for a moment.

‘You will learn not to speak unless you are spoken to,' Laurie snapped. She slapped her hand down hard on Andrea's thigh, making her yelp. The noise attracted the driver's attention. She saw his eyes examining her in the rear-view mirror.

Laurie took a pair of red leather high-heels from the holdall. She bent forward and fitted them onto Andrea's feet. They had an ankle strap, which she buckled tightly.

‘Nearly done,' she said.

She turned to face Andrea, bringing herself to within inches of her face. ‘You love it, don't you?'

There was no point in lying. Andrea's whole body was throbbing with some very familiar sensations, intensified by a whole set of very new ones. ‘Yes, Ms Angelis,' she said softly. Their mouths were no more than six inches apart and she couldn't help imagining how it would feel to kiss those fleshy lips and feel that pliant mouth crushed against hers. The thought created another jolt of pleasure.

Laurie raised her hand and stroked Andrea's leather-covered cheek.

‘Close your eyes,' she said.

Andrea did as she was told. In the darkness she heard the noise of two short zips being pulled and felt tightness over her eyelids. The oval eyeholes had been closed. She opened her eyes tentatively, but the darkness was complete.

She felt Laurie moving slightly on the seat next to her. She heard a clink of a glass. Then the weight beside her shifted again. Laurie was having a drink. They seemed to have escaped the worst of the traffic now and the car's forward progress was less halting. Its smooth suspension and quiet engine were soporific. Andrea inhaled the pungent smell of leather. It reminded her of last Saturday night. That had been the most exciting experience of her life, but it was only the beginning. What had happened to her already today was so far beyond anything she could have imagined that it left her in little doubt that Charles Hawksworth's ‘training' was going to be a monumental voyage of self-discovery.

In the blackness behind the blindfold she could see herself, sitting with her hands tied in an attitude of prayer, her forearms resting against her breasts, the tight red basque cinched around her body, the suspenders pulling the stocking tops into peaks on her thighs.

Laurie had effectively robbed her of her will. And that was the point, after all. She was no longer allowed to think or do even the simplest thing for herself, and that was exciting her. But she was glad she'd been dressed so provocatively. She wanted to look her best when she met her master again. He was all that mattered now.

 

‘Out.'

She must have fallen asleep because she woke with a start. A hand was pulling her up.

For a moment she forgot about her bound hands and got a jolt as she tried to use them to move forward. The rope and the steel collar soon reminded her she was not free to make such instinctive movements.

‘Come on.' The voice was Laurie's.

Hands were pulling at her body. She stumbled forward onto the soft carpeting and was virtually dragged out of the car. The air was cold but very fresh. She was sure they had arrived at the manor.

‘Take her inside.' Laurie's voice again.

The red patent leather shoes had heels that made her totter. She felt hands grasping her by the shoulders and pushing her forward. She could hear the gravel crunching under her feet. Then the hands lifted her slightly and the texture of the ground underfoot changed. She had been expecting the carpet of the hall, imagining she was being taken into the house through the front door, but this felt and sounded like wooden boards.

The hands guided her to the right. After twenty or thirty of her diminutive steps they pulled her to the left and brought her to a halt. The hands dropped from her shoulders.

‘Open your legs.' This voice was female too, but it was not Laurie.

Andrea obeyed. She felt a hand brush between her legs, then something rubbed against her thigh above the stocking tops. It crept higher.

‘Move her forward.' Another female voice, but a different one yet. It was coming from behind her.

A hand on Andrea's arm guided her forward two or three steps.

‘That's it.'

Andrea gasped. Whatever had been glancing against her thigh was suddenly pulled right up between her legs, burrowing into her labia. Andrea had no idea what it was but it felt like a rope.

There were some noises she couldn't identify. The rope altered position slightly, pulled up more sharply between her buttocks and at the front of her mons. The latter brought it in direct contact with her clitoris and Andrea gasped loudly again.

‘Sensitive little flower, isn't she?'

‘Is that tied off?'

‘Yes.'

‘Come on then.'

Andrea heard footsteps on the wooden floor and then a door was slammed. A key grated in a lock.

She stood stock still trying to hear whether there was anyone else in the room. The tight leather helmet over her ears muffled most sounds, and she doubted she would be able to hear breathing. She imagined Charles Hawksworth sitting in a leather wing-chair with his legs crossed, looking at her with that mixture of disdain and appreciation, his eyes roaming her body. She thrust her shoulders back and raised her head, wanting him to see that she was proud to be his slave. But after three or so minutes she became convinced she was alone.

Tentatively she tried to take a step forward but the rope, or whatever it was, between her legs wouldn't budge, only jamming itself more tightly into her sex and making her clitoris zing. She moved back slightly. Though she could take two or three steps forward it only forced the rope deeper into her sex.

The short journey from the car, bound and blindfolded, had created huge waves of arousal. The idea of being taken from the car dressed like a whore, with her breasts and buttocks and her sex exposed to whoever happened to be watching, strangers she did not know and could not see, excited her like nothing else ever had. Why it should have such an effect on her she simply did not know, but there was no denying that it did. With her arms tied against her breasts she could feel her nipples were as hard as pebbles again, and there were little pulses of feeling deep in her vagina that she always got when it was wet. She was sure she could feel her juices leaking over the rope.

She tried to relax and calm herself down, but with the rope buried deep in her sex that was impossible. Every time she made the slightest movement she felt it jerk against her clitoris and the sensitive flesh at the mouth of her vagina.

With her forearms she crushed her breasts back, feeling the hard nipples embedded in the malleable flesh. She rubbed them from side to side and felt little ripples of pleasure cascade through her body. Almost imperceptibly she began to wriggled her hips from side to side, making the rope brush across her clitoris. She discovered by moving her arms and her hips at the same tempo the two feelings collided into one.

In the darkness behind the leather helmet the images came thick and fast. She saw herself tied helplessly in the punishment room last Saturday. She saw Laurie's eyes six inches from her face and her rich, kissable mouth. And in her imagination she saw herself being pulled from the car, bound and helpless while nameless and numberless strangers gathered around to watch. She was coming. Her whole body was beginning to tremble. She jerked on the ropes that held her hands so tightly, not because she wanted to get free but because the feeling of being bound increased her excitement.