The Voyeur (4 page)

‘Ms Hill was waiting for me in the office. The moment I sat down at my desk, she towered over me, telling me off for going into Dr Sparrow’s office during a match talk, and that, as it was her error as well, we would both be reprimanded.

‘I couldn’t believe it. The situation was getting more surreal by the second. I told her I was sorry; that it was simply a misunderstanding. I was determined to remain calm on the outside, but my heart was thudding like mad. I didn’t say anything else, but Ms Hill went crazy. She was like a banshee, shouting that I should never speak to her like that, and that I was ungrateful, and how “a little discipline would do you good, young lady”, even though I’d not spoken a word!

‘Rather than move away from me, Ms Hill loomed even closer, seriously invading my personal space. Her hand came to my throat, and she held it tightly, while her other hand gripped my right breast. I honestly can’t remember what happened next; it was all a bit of a blur. Somehow I extracted myself from her grip. I think I shouted at her to let me go, telling her I wasn’t into old women. That lie was definitely a mistake. The secretary grabbed my wrists and, pulling them behind me, her teeth came to my neck, biting into my skin before licking over the marks she’d made.

‘I know my body reacted to her touch. I know my breasts swelled and my pussy became damp, but at the same time I was repulsed by her – not to mention confused as fuck. With hindsight I wonder if she had actually wanted me to give in to her, or if she’d wanted me to fight harder and overcome her instead – seduce her somehow. All I did was struggle and squirm until I was out of her grasp, leaving her breathless, and very angry.’

Observing Clara’s struggle to keep her expression neutral, Mark was satisfied that Anya had kept her word, and never spoken about how she was introduced to this life. The more he watched his staff, the more convinced he became that he’d been right; this was the perfect way to ease them into Fantasy 13. Although he wouldn’t tell them that – not yet. As he inclined his head to Anya, encouraging her to go on, Mark’s dick stirred privately at the thought of the memory she was about to share.

‘Anyway, before Ms Hill could do or say anything else, the office door re-opened and Dr Sparrow came in, wordlessly ushering Ms Hill and me back to his study. The cricket team was reluctantly filing out, all except Craig, who sat proprietorially in a wing-backed chair near the window.

‘Although it was the presence of Craig that seemed to fill the room, it was Dr Sparrow who spoke. He told Ms Hill how disappointed he was in her; that I was new, and so could be excused this infraction with a warning, but that she needed reminding of her place.

‘Ms Hill demurely lowered her head, and Craig was told to get me a seat so I could witness the result of my superior’s error!

‘Pressing me into a large leather armchair, the cricket captain stood at my side, a hand placed firmly over my wrist to confirm I was not to move. I remember I began to tremble. There was an air of expectancy, and I could feel the presence of my own fear; it was almost tangible as the manager removed his secretary’s outer garments. I honestly couldn’t take in what was happening. Yet I stayed stock still, watching every move with an unreal fascination. All the while the heat of Craig’s hand grew on my arm.

‘Reduced to her underwear, Ms Hill didn’t appear any more vulnerable than before. Her steely eyes remained black and clear, and her greying hair was immaculate in its neat bun. That was when I realised the secretary was actually enjoying herself. In fact, it seemed appallingly obvious that she’d engineered the entire situation.’

Mark leant forward, his hand blatantly rubbing his cock through his trousers as he listened to his PA. ‘Tell Clara more.
Everything
that happened in that office.
Every
detail you can recall.’

Taking a mini-sip of her fast cooling coffee, Anya continued, ‘Pulling the belt from his waist, Dr Sparrow bound Ms Hill’s arms behind her back, removed her bra, and feasted on her small globes right in front of me. I felt hot and awkward as I was forced to observe, but every time I attempted to avert my gaze, something in me made me look again.

‘I simply couldn’t believe all the rumours I’d heard were true! Bridge’s was supposed to be a respectable establishment, for fuck’s sake, not some Victorian whorehouse. I tried to get up then, to get out of the room, but Craig had been expecting me to move, and increased his pressure on my wrist.

‘Dr Sparrow ordered Ms Hill to lie prostrate on the carpet. Once she was on the floor, the doctor pulled down her knickers, grabbed a ruler from his desk, and smacked her bony arse, forming a pink criss-cross pattern across her skin.

‘Ms Hill whimpered, and despite my instinctive revulsion, a treacherous want welled up between my thighs as I fidgeted on my seat. That was when Craig whispered, “This is doing it for you isn’t it?” into my ear.

‘I didn’t reply. I hadn’t trusted my voice not to betray me.

‘Dr Sparrow turned to Craig, and said, “Over to you captain.”

‘Craig let go of me and casually stripped. There was no denying it; he was gorgeous. Ms Hill said nothing, but the yearning in her eyes spoke volumes as Craig freed her arms and helped her to stand, positioning her against the edge of the desk. I could only stare as he entered her snatch, pumping fiercely until they both groaned with release and Craig pulled away. What really astounded me, was Ms Hill meekly saying, “Thank you, captain,” when it was all over, and she was retrieving her clothes.

‘Then, abruptly, Dr Sparrow and Ms Hill left with some excuse about making tea, and I was on my own with Craig. I remember every inch of me feeling as though it had been doused in ice, and yet I burning with some sort of fever. I was almost paralysed with erotic uncertainty.

‘Saying nothing as he pulled me forward, Craig tugged at my bra so my tits were pushed toward his greedy eyes. I’m embarrassed to say I knew that, there and then, he could do anything to me and I would welcome it. Panic rose in my throat, only to be overtaken by unbelievable lust as Craig worked on my breasts. First the left, then the right, winding his tongue around each nipple, moving at a leisurely pace across my aching globes. I was shaken with an orgasm before he’d even touched me with his elegant fingers; an orgasm I knew I should be ashamed of. Yet all I could do was think about what the hell it might be like if he touched my clit. Then Craig pulled away.

‘I can remember precisely what he said to me. The memory of his words will always haunt me. “You’ll have heard tales about us, I’m sure, and by the expression on your face, I think you’re beginning to believe them. They are mostly lies, of course, but this is London’s most exclusive sports club, and we take every aspect of sport very seriously indeed.” He sat up straighter then, held my chin in his hand, and forced me to meet his eyes, saying, “I think that will do for now. Tempting though it is to skewer you here and now, I think you should learn restraint; you climaxed far too quickly.”

‘That was it, really.’ Anya risked a look at Mark. ‘That was when I noticed you.’

Clara scanned the space between her lover and her employer, her mouth open, a million questions queuing up in her head. However, Mark spoke first, taking up the story.

‘I’d been sitting in the shadows in the far corner of the room. Dr Sparrow and Craig had known I was there. It had been Sparrow’s idea to let me observe events secretly. He knew of my voyeuristic preferences, and hoped if I saw the sort of thing that happened there I would be encouraged to stay as a club member. In fact, all he did was increase my desire to have a specialist staff of my own, a staff who I could enjoy in the same way; but a staff I knew wanted to be there, who were not cornered into a position like Anya was that day.

‘Once the others had gone, and Anya was left alone, shocked and aroused, I came out of hiding. It took some major reassuring to let her know that I wasn’t about to jump her. I asked Anya quite bluntly if my assumption that she liked women as well as men was correct. Once Anya, blushing a beautiful crimson, told me this was indeed the case, I offered her a job, and got her the hell out of that place.’

Clara’s mouth hung open, and a faint stab of betrayal prickled through her. ‘You had a similar life to this before?’

Anya spoke softly, willing her partner to understand. ‘Not really. I wasn’t there more than a few weeks, and here I have choice. Here I can say no. Here I have you.’

Clara lowered her head a fraction, thinking hard about what Anya had said, knowing it was mad to feel jealous of Anya’s encounter with Mark. An encounter without her. After all, she should be grateful to her – for it was Anya who had found her and bought her here in the first place …

Chapter Four

Six months earlier

It was the crisp aroma of the place that convinced Anya she had done the right thing. Airy and clean, with an edge of freshness that spoke of modern professionalism. The new beech furniture and unstained carpet was a million miles from the stuffy claustrophobic aura of Bridge’s.

Mark was away on business, something unavoidable he’d said, but the list of jobs to do in his absence lay on the desk as promised. Quietening the voice at the back of her head that asked if she was up to this major promotion, Anya pulled her new chair from beneath her new desk, and sat in front of her state-of-the-art PC for the first time. The top item on the list – in fact, the only item on the list – was to find Mark a housekeeper. Anya read the request twice, not quite sure she had understood it properly the first time.

Dear Anya,

Welcome to your new life. I hope you like the office I’ve designed for you. There is just one task for you to address while you are adjusting to this new environment, job and, indeed, this new way of life.

You are to find me a full-time, live-in, female housekeeper. She must be professionally qualified for the position. She must also be exactly 5 foot 5 tall. She will be bisexual. She will be prepared to adopt a semi-submissive lifestyle. We must both find her attractive, otherwise the working arrangement I have in mind will not work.

I look forward to seeing the results of your search on Friday, by which time I hope you will have arranged interviews for the candidates you have shortlisted.

Mark Parker

P.S. Your sleeping quarters are on the second floor, third door on the left as you go up the stairs. You may place your clothes and belongings in the dressing room (adjacent door to the right). I have taken the liberty of placing an outfit for you on your bed. Please be wearing it for my return on Friday at precisely nine a.m.

Anya’s hands chilled a little, and a bucket full of misgivings took hold. He can’t really expect me to find a housekeeper with all those extra requirements in less than a week, can he? People never put their sexual preferences on their CVs, and there is no way I can specify “only bi-females who are 5 foot 5 need apply” on the job advert. She really didn’t want to be pounced on by the equal opportunities people on her first day at work. This was going to take some creative thinking, yet Anya’s mind was blank. She didn’t know where you advertised for domestic staff, let alone domestic staff with added kink.

Just the thought of what Mark was asking her to do, however, was enough to send ripples of edgy arousal coursing through her body. Outwardly she might have been searching for a housekeeper, but Anya was very aware that what she was really looking for was a live-in lover.

Deciding to give herself thinking time, she got up and, grabbing hold of her two suitcases, headed off to find the living quarters she’d been promised.

Anya had imagined a neat, spacious bedroom, possibly, judging from the immense size of the house, with an adjoining living area. The fact that Mark had mentioned a separate dressing room increased her hope.

Having climbed up some polished wooden staircases and walked slowly along a hallway lined with exquisite oil paintings, the sharp breath Anya drew in as she stepped into her allotted room was not one of awe. He’d got to be kidding! It was tiny, and what’s more, there were two single beds shoehorned into the cramped space. Does this mean that I have to share with the new housekeeper? For goodness’ sake! When we’re lying in bed, we’d only have to accidently drop an arm out of the bed and we’d hit each other.

Stepping from the room, Anya hastily shut the door. That was impossible. No way could her new employer expect her to live in such as tiny space. It was positively Victorian. For heavens’ sake, she was a PA, not a scullery maid. It just didn’t tie up with the incredible salary Mark was paying her. Perhaps that was why; extra wages to compensate for the inconvenient living space? Anya took a second slow inhalation of air and decided to see what the dressing room was like.

Her relief was palpable. Modern, spacious, and plush. Wardrobe rails ran along one side of the room, and a pastel coloured sitting area, complete with a television, DVD player, tea and coffee facilities and a minibar, gave it the feel of a very modern and rather expensive hotel suite. ‘OK, I can cope with this.’ Anya spoke to the room in general. ‘But it seems as if the impetus to find a work colleague that I really, really like is even more essential than I thought, judging by the size of that bedroom.’

Dropping her meagre collection of luggage on the dressing room’s soft green carpet, Anya decided to get on with her housekeeper hunt. Four days was no time at all to find a new member of staff, let alone one who would fit Mark’s very particular requirements. Normal channels were never going to do the job. Anya was almost back to the staircase which led from the top floor to the middle floor of the house, where her office was stationed, when she remembered the outfit Mark had mentioned in his note. She couldn’t recall having seen anything on either of the beds, but, retracing her steps, she poked her head back around the bedroom door in case she was mistaken.

Both of the bed’s maroon duvet covers were bare. Mark must have forgotten. Anya shrugged; well, that was one request she’d have to leave unfulfilled. She could hardly wear an outfit that he’d failed to leave for her.

Logging on to her computer, Anya went directly to the select adult sites that cluttered the Internet. There had to be some dedicated to those who revelled in “playing” maids. Selecting the first five she came across, Anya placed an advertisement on each, detailing the specific requirements she was after. It was only after she’d sent them that she questioned the chances of anyone surfing those sites having the qualifications Mark wanted. This was, after all, a professional household, and whatever else he expected his new staff member to do, she would have to properly fulfil the role of housekeeper for real, not just look the part.

Anya typed “Domestic staff required, Oxfordshire, UK” into the search engine, and was instantly presented with page after page of agencies providing housekeepers, butlers, nannies, and maids, along with lists of people looking for such employment independently. She was amazed at how many there were in this day and age. Feeling the press of time on her, and badly wanting to perform her first job for Mark to the best of her ability, Anya read advert after advert.

Narrowing her search to those candidates who’d provided photographs of themselves, Anya began to imagine what each of them would be like in person. Immediately crossing off the list all the men, and anyone who she didn’t find attractive, Anya swallowed back her last vestige of professional pride in judging each potential applicant by their appearance above their qualifications. After all, she had to live with, not to mention sleep with, the winner.

Relived that she’d found somewhere to hunt for staff so easily, Anya did her best to ignore her rising inclination to wank at the thought of having sex with some of those women, and began to address the problem of height. How on earth am I supposed to find a way of discerning how tall they all are before inviting them for interview? Anya knew wasting Mark’s time with six foot women simply wasn’t an option.

Her eyes fell back to the note that Mark had left her, alighting on the word “outfit”. The solution was obvious. She’d say there was a uniform that went with the job, and therefore height and size could be legitimately asked for. Working on the assumption that not all of the people she approached would actually be interested, Anya set about writing an enquiry email she could send out to 12 of the most qualified, and hottest, women on the site.

My employer is looking for a qualified, full-time, live-in housekeeper (experience preferred). The position is based in a manor house in Oxfordshire (more details to the short-listed candidates), an establishment used as both a home and as the business base for Parker Software Ltd.

Duties will include running the household budget, ensuring the purchase of all food and meals for the small staff and the owner of the house …

Anya’s hands paused on the keyboard as she read back what she’d composed so far. Now came the tricky bit. How to phrase the prospect of the extra duties that would be involved?

There will be occasional additional duties, and part of the year will be spent working and living in the company flat in London. Due to a requirement for flexibility of movement, single applicants will be given priority …

“Additional duties” – that could mean anything. Anya felt her body give an erotic shiver. She wondered what her own additional duties would be. Mark had made no secret of his intentions for her in that area; and yet so far, since her initial invitation to work for him, she hadn’t even seen him, let alone had him lay a finger on her. Growing increasingly aware of her damp snatch, Anya began to contemplate if she and any of the women detailed on the screen would ever share the small bedroom upstairs. Her gaydar was generally quite good, but in such detached circumstances, she really didn’t have a clue if any of these women were into girls, boys, or both. Pulling herself together, Anya returned to the email draft.

As there is a uniform attached to the position, it would be useful if you could include your height and clothing size in your response, so suitable work attire can be provided swiftly should your application be successful.

Please send your CV by return of email.

Yours,

Anya Grant

PP Mark Parker

Parker Software Ltd

Firing the email off 12 times, Anya leant back in her squashy leather cosy chair. Her imagination began to stray further. Will Mark fuck me in here? In this room? In this chair?

Slipping her hand under her skirt, she could picture Mark clearly, pushing her back further, spreading her legs and licking her into submission with his deft tongue. Closing her eyes, Anya’s own fingers copied the gestures she imagined Mark performing, her clit becoming slicker by the moment. Sliding a finger inside her channel, she bought her other hand to her front, easing it down her cleavage before pinching her nipples hard. The images in her head morphed from Mark, to Craig, to all the female faces she’d seen on the screen over the past few hours.

Her climax quickly shot over her, and Anya was hit with a wave of shame. ‘What the hell are you doing woman?’ Anya spoke sternly to herself, abruptly sat up straight, adjusted her clothing, and gave herself a mental shake. ‘Do you want to get sacked before you’ve even started?’

Deciding to explore her new surroundings rather than pointlessly sit and stare at the computer, Anya put on her jacket and headed downstairs. She had been warned by Mark that the house would be quiet, and she’d have to cater for herself for the week, but surely there must be someone else here apart from the gardener?

Feeling only a little bit guilty for leaving her desk during office hours, she pocketed the office mobile in case it should ring, and headed off to find the kitchen. After all, Anya reasoned, if someone were to enquire about the housekeeper’s working conditions, then she’d have to be able to describe the kitchen, which would be the hub of the winning applicant’s working environment.

The house felt almost spookily quiet as Anya crept along the empty hallway and down the expensively carpeted staircase. There must have been at least eight bedrooms, and judging by the size of the dining room she discovered behind the first solid oak wood door she’d gingerly opened on the bottom floor, Mark obviously entertained business guests here.

Behind the next door was a massive living room, with enough sofas and armchairs to double as a hotel lounge. Still she had seen no one. The silence was becoming uncomfortable, and Anya could feel her pulse pounding in her wrists as she moved around, feeling like a thief in the night. Trying the door to her left, Anya found it locked, so she crossed the hall and tried the opposite handle.

It was the kitchen, and it was enormous. A huge, scrubbed table sat in the very middle of the room, oak cupboards and drawers covered the walls, and a range and set of sink units ran along one side.

‘You OK, love?’

Anya jumped, stumbling backwards in shock at the suddenness of the gravelly voice in the suffocating hush of the house.

‘Sorry, love, I didn’t mean to startle you.’ The gardener crossed to one of the sinks, and began rubbing encrusted mud from his palms and fingernails. ‘You settling in OK?’

Anya, whose pulse had returned to normal in the relief of not being faced with an axe murderer, smiled at the friendly face. ‘Just trying to find where everything is.’ She watched his back as he concentrated on the bar of soap that was virtually crushed between his hands as hot, steaming water splashed off his skin. He was younger than she’d taken him for at first; nearer 30 than the 40 she’d previously assumed. His weather-scoured flesh told her that he’d probably spent most of his working life outside, whatever the conditions. ‘Does anyone else work here at the moment?’

‘I have a small staff who help me in the gardens; students, mostly.’

‘Do you know any inside staff?’

‘No. I am an outside guy through and through. Apart from an occasional nip into the kitchen to wash the worst of the mud off my hands or grab a mug of tea, I leave the comings and goings to Mark. To be honest, the agency staff Mark uses chop and change too quickly to get to know them.’ He turned his moon-shaped face to hers, his freckles mingled with mud spots on his now unsmiling, serious face, ‘What’s your name, love?’

‘Anya.’

Sighing, he shook the excess of the water into the sink and wrapped his hands in a warm towel. ‘Look, Anya, let me give you some advice. Mark is a great boss. There’s none of this “Mr Parker” or “sir” formality stuff. He pays promptly and he appreciates a job well done. But I’ve always got the impression that it is wise not to ask too many questions.’