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I guess
that was when I should have told him to fuck off and remember who I was.
But I
didn’t.
I’m still
not sure why. There wasn’t anything wrong between boyfriend and me, ‘cept he
wasn’t around much. And life was a lot more fun that it had been when all of
boyfriend’s business life was a great big secret. And I had, like, anything I
wanted.
So maybe
that was it. I had anything I wanted and I decided that maybe what I wanted was
Jack.
“You wish,“ I said and laughed. Maybe the laugh was a mistake, ‘cos
all he did was buckle the girl’s gag tighter so she
groaned a bit louder. There was something about the way he was looking at me
that told me he wasn’t joking. “Isn’t it a bit of a career risk for you,
thinking about bumping the boss’s girlfriend?” I said.
He just
raised one eyebrow. “Yeah,” he said, not bothering to deny it, “you’re probably
right but I was guessing that it might be worth it.” Jack is looking at me like
there’s nothing else and no one else in the world. Poor little slave girl
struggling on the ground doesn’t know whether she should be pleased because
she’s being ignored or not.
I’m looking
back at Jack and I can feel my knees weakening but somehow it isn’t the right
moment. “I still don’t think it would be real smart,” I said, starting to
leave, “and right now I have stuff to do. Put her back in the cells but leave
that rig on her.” The girl on the floor was wriggling and
grunting some more. I got to the door and turned back towards him.
From the way
he was looking he’d followed my arse with his eyes right the way across the
room. “I’ll take that as though you think so too,” he smirked. I closed the
door behind me. He was right of course, but I wasn’t going to tell him that
straight away.
It hasn’t
taken me too long to grow into the lifestyle. I mean it only took me about a
month before I realised that if you’re going to have one slave then why not
have a few. Boyfriend has been very obliging at making sure I get just what I
want so my maid was snatched from one of
He even
offered to have a plastic surgeon picked up for me but that was definitely a
no-no as far as I was concerned because (a) why the fuck do I need work doing
and (b) no matter how good his training methods are no one’s coming near me
with a knife unless they’re being paid dammed well for what they’re doing.
Besides, I’ve seen enough examples of how “real” some of the work looks that’s
been done on our guests before they ever get here. Why would anyone want tits
that looked like basketballs, anyway?
Well, apart
from that it means I get to have a real comfortable time and this afternoon
last week, I’m sitting in my dressing room after a shower with one slave working
on a pedicure, another busy buffing finger nails, a third fixing my hair, a
fourth standing by with my wine on a try and another showing me the dress she
thought I might like to wear. I’m thinking two things – mainly I’m thinking I
could get used to this (actually I had gotten used to it) but also I’m
thinking, “I wonder what Jack’s up to?”
Which was when he knocked at the door.
“I thought
you might like to hear what I did with that slave you left with me,” he says.
He’s
standing there in a black t-shirt and jeans that couldn’t be any tighter. He
pushes back a strand of blonde hair. I’m trying hard not to dribble. “Sure,” I
say, “I hope she’s feeling pretty uncomfortable.”
“I think
so,” he says. “She’s got that plug in her mouth pushed well back in her throat
so she’s got to keep sucking on it or choke. She seemed like she’d be able to
cope with that so I added a couple of vibrating plugs below the waist as well.”
“Are you
sure she’s not enjoying that?” I ask. “I can think of girls that might quite
like feeling well filled up.”
He gave me
another of his ‘you really are going to be worth the risk, aren’t you?’
sideways looks. “Uh-uh,” he says, shaking his head. “Every time she twitches
she’s getting voltage through the clamps on her little titties.”
“Mmm,” I
say. “Now that’s more what I had in mind.”
“And,
believe me, she’s twitching quite a lot.”
I wave the
slave girls away. Somehow the fact that they hadn’t finished didn’t matter.
“Seems you have a way of making girls twitch,” I say.
“I thought
that was what you wanted for her,” he said.
“I wasn’t
talking about her,” I said. He didn’t say anything. He just put his head on one
side and looked at me in a way that suggested that I needn’t be wearing the
silk robe that I’d put on after my shower. That time my knees really did go and
in the next minute I’ve got my hand on his belt buckle and I’m saying, “Didn’t
you make a wish a bit earlier on?”
It turns
out that Jack is really generous in bed. “No,” he says, “let me,“ as he lays me back on the bed, stroking my neck with one
finger while he’s unfastening the belt of my robe. Turns out he’s as good at
undoing things as he is at doing them up and he’s appreciative too. “Now they
are nice,” he says as he draws the robe open and the next thing I know is that
he’s kissing and nuzzling at my nipples while telling me how the girl in the
dungeon will be feeling. I’m getting well worked up and very damp between my
legs as he slides his head down kissing my belly and then on down to my crotch.
Now how good is that? A man that goes down without you asking
him to?
By this
time I’m getting well worked up and feeling I really ought to return the
favour, so I stroke the back of his neck and he looks up. “Let me,” I say.
“Be my
guest,” he says and kneels up. I slide back between his legs and bring my head
up so I can take his cock in my mouth. “Mmm,” he says, “that’s every bit as
good as I thought it would be.” I’m licking and sucking. He’s telling me more
about what he’s done with the girl downstairs, asking me if I’d like to have
her caged for a bit, suggesting she needed more beatings if she was going to be
any sort of use as a slave. And the more he talked the more worked up I got and
the more enthusiastically I sucked and licked, until he says, “Whoa!” and his
cock is throbbing and pumping cum down my throat.
No sooner
has he finished than there’s a knock on the door from
one of the slaves saying that boyfriend is back. I’ve got my robe fastened and
Jack is on his feet and zipped up by the time the slave comes in. He leaves,
saying, “Well, I shall certainly see that the girl in the cells is treated as
you wish,” before he heads to the door.
The slave
looks at him as he makes his way out. Maybe she’s suspicious. I’m busily
swallowing my mouthful and trying to make sure I haven’t got any hairs between
my teeth. I tell her thanks and to tell boyfriend I’ll be down when I’ve
finished dressing.
Boyfriend
is really pleased to see me. He’s had a good business trip; sold the girls he
took to auction and picked up some commissions for new intake as well. As usual
when things have gone well he wants to get back to the bedroom and play. Well,
I’m still warmed up from my tumble with Jack so I’m not complaining.
Boyfriend
seemed to enjoy himself. I do sometimes wonder what he gets up to with all the
merchandise we have around the place but he’s pretty tough on the whole “don’t
play with the stock” line for the guards so maybe I’m just being suspicious.
Anyway I’ve got no complaints. Most of the time what he can do for me is fine.
Just this time I’m still thinking about Jack.
In fact I’m
still thinking about Jack a couple of hours later when I go down to the cells
to check out how my little friend is getting on. She’s in one of the open-fronted
cells; heavy bars, floor to ceiling, so I’ve got an uninterrupted view of her
and she of me.
Like Jack
said, she doesn’t look as if she’s enjoying herself. He’d added a few
refinements he hadn’t told me about. The girl is standing on tip toe in ballet
boots, her feet forced as far apart as they’ll go by the spreader bar. She’s
kept upright by a chain from the ceiling to the strap that’s pulling her elbows
together behind her back. That’s forcing her to lean forward so her tits hang
down. I can see the clamps on her nipples and the wires running from them, just
like Jack said. She’s groaning and coughing with the gag back in her throat and
a pool of drool is building up on the floor of the cell from where she’s
dribbling.
So I’m
standing there watching her and she’s lifting her head every now and then to
scowl back at me and I feel someone come up behind me. Then there’s Jack’s hand
on my bum and his breath on the back of my neck and he’s saying, ”I hope you’re happy with that. What did she do to piss
you off so much?” He kisses the back of my neck and, in spite of the fact that
I’ve had two tumbles in less than two hours, I’m
desperate for it again.
I try to
compose myself. “I really don’t remember,” I said. He’s standing very close.
His hand is all over my arse, slipping across the silk of my skirt but I’m
pretty sure no one can see what’s going on. I’m between him and slave girl and
he’s between me and anyone else. And the more he fondles, the hotter I get,
until I’m really grabbing at the bars of the girl’s cell. “But frankly, who
gives a fuck? It’s just fun to see her like that.”
“You really
are getting the idea, aren’t you,” Jack says. I can hear the approval in his
voice. “I can see I’ll have to be careful.” And with that he takes his hand away
and he’s gone, as silently as he arrived.
I’m so
horny now that when I get back to my room, I practically dive at the bedside
table and find my little buzzing friend. I’ve got it pushed well up against me
when boyfriend comes back with a “Hey, you really are keen tonight, what’s got
you so wound up?”
I tell him
how hot having slave girl suffer is making me feel and he grins, takes away the
vibrator and pulls me back to bed for another bounce. By the end of it we’re
both ready for sleep.
When we
wake up, boyfriend rings the bell for the duty slave and who should come in but
my uncomfortable friend from the cells downstairs. She looks like she’s had a
harder night than I had – for all his enthusiasm, one more bounce was all boyfriend had in him – but she’s being obedient now all
right as she brings the tea tray in and kneels with it beside the bed. Suddenly
I think, what if she saw something and what if she
says something. But then I remember she’s still got a thick plug of rubber in
her mouth and who takes any notice of what slaves say anyway?
So what are
the problems?
Well, for a
start, like people expect you to keep up appearances all the time. When he’s
there to greet our latest set of visitors I’m supposed to be there too, hanging
off his arm and smiling approvingly as he outlines the poor victims’ fate. And
of course I’ve heard his repertoire of sinister promises of discomfort in the
event of lack of cooperation so many times that it’s hard to keep a straight
face. Then the whole security bit can be pretty dull and, if I was bothered
about it, having the boyfriend able to take his pick of a selection of lovelies
any time he chooses can be a problem too.
Of course, I guess it can be dangerous – I’ve seen some of the
ironmongery that boyfriend’s body guard carries and I’m guessing he doesn’t
carry it because he wants to make that bulge in his suit – I mean quite apart
from the forces of law there’s sometimes friends of our guests that take a dim
view of their disappearance and of course the business isn’t without its own
set of competitors. But there haven’t been any real problems apart from the one
little bitch that jumped me in the early days before I learned to be as careful
as I am now.
Take today,
for example. I thought I was going to have a nice quiet, relaxing day. Sprawl
by the pool, get a massage, chill out. But I’m not
that lucky this time. Boyfriend wanders up saying we’ve got another guest; so I
need to be there to greet her too.
Turns out that the new arrival is the latest smart kid trying to get
under the skin of the boyfriend’s business. There’s usually one or two a year that we have
to take care of; nosy reporters, distraught sisters looking for a missing
sibling, that sort of thing.
So can I
just throw on a robe and schlep around until she’s brought in? Oh no; boyfriend
wants the whole deal. “We have to put on a bit of a show,” he says, “she’ll
expect it, the lads expect it, and anyway what sort of criminal mastermind
would I be if my girlfriend didn’t inspire a little respect?”
So I take
the hint. I know what he means and mostly, as far as I’m concerned, it means
uncomfortable.
I will
never get used to platform shoes. I like shoes as much as the next girl, well
quite a lot more actually – one of the good things about this gig is that I’ve
been able to build up an Imelda Marcos scale collection – but platforms are
just impossible. If Naomi Campbell managed to go arse over tit off of hers what
chance is there for the rest of us?
Still at least I won’t have to walk too far for this so I can indulge
him with some of his favourites.
High heels,
tight skirt, tits on a shelf – he’s just sooo predictable – but so long as he’s
happy.
Anyway our
new guest turns out to be an accountant. Like she’s going to fit in around here
– NOT! We get her story second hand – she’s not talking much with that big red
ball in her mouth – seems like she’d been auditing one of the subsidiaries and
her boss had obviously not explained just which files she shouldn’t be looking
into. Anyway, apparently she comes over all righteous and “what would the SEC
say about this???” so her boss invites her to take a holiday at our place
without the option. Now she’s standing in the lobby while the boyfriend looks
her over and she’s peering down her nose at my cleavage. And I’m thinking,
sure, like I’d be standing there in danger of getting a cold on my chest if I
didn’t have to. Still I’m not the one with fifty foot of one inch rope wrapped
around my wrists, arms and body, so why should I care?
Boyfriend
can see there’s a bit of confrontation in the offing so he asks me if I’d like
to take her in hand, personally, for my own slave team. I give her a look over;
long blonde hair that looks like it might be real, neat body with decent size
tits, little girl lost looks – though that might just be the result of her
current predicament. Too much competition, I decide, and tell him, “Nah, send
her to auction.” Boyfriend looks disappointed, then shrugs and calls for a
guard.
© Freddie Clegg 2007
Not to be reproduced or reposted without permission. All characters and events fictitious.
Email: freddie_clegg@yahoo.com
Find PDF’s of my stories at my web group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/freddies_tales/
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