Wendy was bored. Her boss had sent her down to
London for a totally inconsequential meeting and now, on the way back, she was
stuck, cramped up, on the 17:34 from Euston, sitting opposite a businessman
who’d spent the entire journey with his legs pushed out in front of him taking
up all the available room. Ever since he’d sat down he’d had his face buried in
a newspaper and he’d seemed impervious to Wendy’s attempts to attract his
attention. Fortunately, as the train pulled in to Crew station, it looked like
her ordeal was over; he stood up and started to pick up his papers from the
table between them. The train lurched to a stop and he, and several other
passengers got off. At last Wendy felt she could relax. There was still quite a
way to go but now it was her turn to stretch out.
She glanced over and saw that the businessman
had left his newspaper lying on the seat. She wasn’t usually a Financial Times
reader but as she’d finished her novel somewhere around Birmingham she reached
over and picked it up. No sooner had she done so than a slim paperback fell out
from between the pages. This looked far more promising than the FT so she
grabbed the book instead. As she picked it up she couldn’t help but chuckle.
The book was called ‘The Castle Of Slaves’ and the cover showed a leather-clad
dominatrix holding a coiled whip. You sly
old dog. She thought to herself. All the world thinks you’re reading the FT
and you’re deep into this stuff instead. She opened it up and started to
flick through the pages. It was pretty much what she’d expected. The level of
writing was poor and the plot was practically non-existent but the descriptions
of Mistress Whiplash (groan!) torturing
her slaves in the dungeons of her castle were graphic and detailed.
Despite the stupid story and the appalling
number of typos Wendy found herself hooked and, somehow, couldn’t put the book
down. She could think of a few male chauvinist bastards who could do with a
sound whipping, starting with that selfish pig of a businessman with his long
legs that took all the room between the seats and finishing with Trevor, her
ex, and that bimbette, that trollop, that tart, he’d left her for. In fact she
read it all the way to Preston Station where she had parked her car. The train
pulled in and, as she gathered up her bags, she took one final glance at the
book before throwing it in the bin.
Home at last Wendy dropped her suitcase and
slumped down in her favourite armchair. As she had driven home through the
lanes her mind had been buzzing; somehow she couldn’t shift that stupid book
from her mind. She felt that she could sure do with a slave right now, someone
to make her a much needed cup of tea, someone to massage her tired feet,
someone to tend to her needs without making demands in return. The idea of being
tended by some half naked man, with wrist cuffs and a collar and some sort of
pouch to cover his prick, was somehow very appealing, and, if he, or even they,
weren’t up to scratch then she’d make them suffer, and that was appealing too.
With a sigh Wendy got up. There were no slaves
to serve her and dreaming wasn’t going to make the supper. With a shake of her
head she went off into the kitchen.
Two days later Wendy came home from work as
usual, fixed herself a light supper, as usual, and flopped down in front of the
television, as usual. As she flicked through the viewing guide she realised
that it was going to be yet another of those evenings. Nothing she really
wanted to watch, nothing to fill her evening. It was all going to be ‘as
usual’. She went over to her PC and switched it on. Perhaps if she browsed on
line she’d find something to amuse her, something to shake this ennui.
She fired up the browser and went to Google.
What should she search for? What did she want? The book from the train came to
mind; she’d heard the internet was full of porn, maybe now it was time to find
some. She typed in 'dominatrix' and clicked on search. The first sites she
found were cheap and garish, and they wanted her credit card details. What sort
of a mug did they think she was! However a little bit more searching took her
to the BDSM Library and its collection of stories. It took a moment or two to
sort out the story guides but she was soon searching for F/m and F/m+ and
bringing up list after list of fascinating stories.
The first few she read were less than
inspiring, pretty amateur stuff full of poor writing and clichéd plots.
However, the more she read, the more she understood the star rating and the
more she came upon writing that was very much to her taste, some of it good
enough to put ‘Castle of Slaves’ very much in the shade. One or two in
particular spoke to something deep inside her and, as she read, she could feel
her body tingle. Eventually she glanced up at the clock; it was well past
midnight and it really was time for bed. She’d been so engrossed in the stories
she hadn’t noticed how late it had got. Her mind still spinning she shut down
the computer and hurried off to bed.
As she lay between the sheets she couldn’t
sleep; she realised just how turned on she’d become. The stories had really got
to her, really stirred her imagination. Stories of powerful women, women who
knew what they wanted and how to get it, fired a desire within her to be like
that. The historical ones were closest to her fantasies. If she were Mistress
of the Castle of Slaves she wouldn’t be anything as clichéd as Madam Whiplash,
she’d be Lady Elvira, the Cruel Countess. She’d rule the castle like a goddess,
her every whim served by her slaves. Almost without thinking she reached for
her bedside draw and fumbled inside for her vibrator. She imagined herself
coming back to the castle dressed in riding gear after exercising the horses.
One slave would crouch before her acting as a footstool, another would be
polishing her boots and a third would be fetching her a cool drink. Idly she’d
play with her crop pondering which slave would suffer at her hands. She’d know
how to keep them in hand, how to keep them trained to her will and any that
strayed, any that dare disobey, would suffer not just the lash but be cast from
her, never to be allowed to serve again. As she revelled in her fantasies the
vibrator worked its magic between her thighs. In her mind she could see the
chained body, the tensed buttocks already covered in vivid wheals, she could
hear the whistle of the lash, the thwack as it struck flesh, the agonised
scream of her victim. Her thoughts became disjointed, a slide show of her as
dominatrix and of her slaves grovelling at her feet. Her body arched, her
muscles tensed, and, with an intense peak of pleasure that washed through her,
she came, every nerve exultant, her whole body singing, lost in wave after wave
after wave of pure ecstasy. And then the waves broke, her muscles relaxed and
she sank back onto the bed. She could hardly believe what had happened, how
strong the feelings had been within her; it had been a climax as intense as
anything she had ever felt before. She switched off the vibrator and relaxed,
coming back down gently, getting her breath back.
She thought over the stories she’d read. They
were fine, well, some of them were, but they weren’t her story. They weren’t
the story of Lady Elvira. You know what,
I could write better than that. She mused to herself and, rolling over,
snuggled down to sleep.
For the next few evenings Wendy worked away at
her computer, putting together her story. What had looked quite easy at first
turned out to be much harder than she thought. Sure, she was a quick typist and
the spell-checker sorted out some of her typos, but turning a masturbation
fantasy into a proper story, one with a beginning, a middle and an end, was a
real struggle. Again and again she found she was resorting to cliché, that she
was painting herself into corners, that inspiration was failing her. Her
respect for the other authors on the BDSM Library site was growing; now that
she was trying it for herself she could see how difficult it was to put
together something well written and original. But, whatever the difficulties,
she’d become obsessed with writing. She’d get lost in the story; it became so
real to her that she had to type furiously just to keep up with the plot as it
unfolded in her mind. On other occasions, when inspiration failed her, she’d
retire to bed, reach for the vibrator, and let her thoughts wander. Day by day
the story grew.
Once the writing was finished there came the
endless slog of proof reading. This was where the real work started; the
passages she’d written in a fever of sexual excitement were often the most
imaginative and the bits she was most proud of but were full of typos where her
fingers had failed to keep up with her libido. Time after time she’d read
through her words and every time she’d find yet more errors, yet more phrases
that could be better expressed. Now that it was so near completion she was
inpatient to post it but she knew she wouldn’t be satisfied unless it was as
near perfect as possible. Eventually she reached the point where she knew she
could do no better. Well, maybe she could, but she’d reached the point of
diminishing returns. At last it was time to post her story.
She logged on to the library and clicked on the
‘Submit Story’ link. Carefully she read through the instructions; it seemed
that, amongst other things, an e-mail address was required. She immediately dismissed
the idea of using her real address, after all some internet security was
required, so she opened another window and quickly created a hotmail account; LadyElvira@hotmail.co.uk, that would do, something she could remember easily, something she
could check from her office, something that reflected her fictional persona.
She clicked on the ‘Submit’ button. There, it
was done; her story was posted at last.
Over the next couple of days Wendy was checking
the BDSM Library as often as she could, and, whilst at work, she was checking
her e-mail almost hourly. How long would it take? When would she see her work
on line? What reaction would it get? The anticipation was driving her crazy;
she wanted to see her work posted, and she wanted it now! And then, there it
was in her inbox, an e-mail from the BDSM Library site administrators telling
her that her story was on line. She was so excited she wanted to check the site
immediately but she was at work and such sites were blocked. She’d have to wait
until she got home.
That evening she was first out of the office,
first down to the car park and first into the rush hour traffic. It seemed to
take hours to get home; the traffic in town was bad enough but when she got into
the lanes heading for the village where she lived she had the bad luck to get
stuck behind a tractor. At last, with a scrunch of gravel, she pulled into the
drive of her cottage. She leapt from the car, rushed inside and powered on her
PC. Slowly, so slowly, it went through the power-on sequence but eventually it
was ready and she clicked on the Firefox icon to start up the browser.
Feverishly she clicked on the bookmark and opened the library site. Even that
seemed to take forever but at last it loaded. Yes! There it was, her story
listed amongst the day’s new postings. A couple more clicks, the link was open
and she was reading through the familiar words, the words she had spent so much
work on. Almost immediately she spotted a typo, and another one. Damn! Why
hadn’t she spotted them before posting? Still, it was too late now, the job was
done and the only thing left to do was to see what reviews she got, to see how
well her work was accepted. Leaving the PC running she went to her kitchen and
fixed herself some supper.
Repeatedly during the evening she returned to
her PC to check the site. Her readership numbers were slowly rising and she
told herself not to be impatient. After all it would be a while before the US
readers came on line; the east coast is five hours behind the UK and the west
coast even more. Her excitement at seeing her work published was, however,
mixed with a sense of emptiness. She’d got used to sitting in front of her PC,
bashing out the words, seeing the story grow before her eyes and now all she
could do was wait, wait to see how it was received. What should she do? Should
she write a sequel? She certainly hadn’t planned one but maybe she could dream
up more adventures for her heroine. Maybe if Lady Elvira travelled to Berlin, met
up with the dashing Captain Kurt and ensnared him with her whiles… Already in
her mind she could see him, his smart military uniform, his clipped manners,
his Germanic formality. He’d be a hard nut to crack but the feminine charms of
Lady Elvira would work their magic and it would be far more fun to train a
reluctant slave than a willing one. She pottered round the house, doing the
chores and tidying up, but all the while her mind was racing. What was the next
chapter? What would come next? The clock struck eleven; it was getting late.
One last check on her rising readership figures before she shut down the PC and
took herself off to bed. She snuggled down beneath the covers and reached again
for her vibrator. Hmm… What would Lady Elvira do? How would she ensnare the
dashing captain? How would she get him grovelling before her?
It was lunchtime on the next day before she got
another chance to check her mailbox. Furtively, checking that her co-workers
couldn’t see her screen, she logged on to hotmail, entered her username and
password and waited for the mailbox to open. Wow! She had six, yes six,
e-mails. Two were from the BDSM Library administrators telling her that she had
new reviews; she couldn’t wait to get home to be able to read them. Of the
other four, three were short, pleasant, e-mails congratulating her on her
story. She was gratified that people had made the effort; it somehow made all
the hard work of writing worthwhile. This wasn’t just readers but people who
thought sufficiently well of her work that they had made the effort to write to
her. But it was the last e-mail which really surprised.
==========================================================
From: slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: Your story
==========================================================
Dear Lady Elvira
Thank you so much for
your wonderful story.
I would be honoured
if you would allow me to become your slave. You would find me obedient and
willing to serve you in any way you wished.
Yours obediently
slave mark
===========================================================
Here was a
person, a real person, offering to be her slave. Well, to be honest he was
offering to be Lady Elvira’s slave, and Wendy was well aware of the difference
but it was an intriguing thought and one which gave her an erotic
tingle. She’d written brief ‘thank you’s in reply to her other e-mails; how
should she reply to this one? Should she reply at all? What was certain was
that she couldn’t really concentrate on it while she was at work; she’d have to
leave it until she got home.
She wasn’t
able to concentrate much on work either. The thought that someone, somewhere,
had sent her such an e-mail was always at the back of her mind and it was
certainly more exciting than sifting through the endless paperwork that seemed
to make up the rest of her day. What was he like, this ‘slave mark’; that was
part of the thrill, he could be anything from a suave, sophisticated Captain
Kurt – huh, in her dreams – to some grossly overweight, chain smoking slob.
That evening, once again, she left the office promptly and switched on her PC
as soon as she got home. First things first, though, she logged on to the BDSM
Library to check her reviews. She was gratified to find that the two reviews
had now become three and all of them were favourable. Then she logged on to
hotmail and checked her inbox. As well as the notification about her new review
there was another piece of fan mail along the same lines as slave mark’s. Wendy
had never expected a reaction like this; it looked like Lady Elvira could, if
she so wished, have a number slaves, well, e-mail slaves at least. It couldn’t harm to reply. Wendy
thought to herself. Sure, she would have to be careful; she didn’t want some
sort of internet stalker after her but she could have some fun and see where it
led. Whilst she pondered over her next move there was time to go to the kitchen
and make some supper.
She rustled
up a pork chop with a baked potato and tried to imagine the reply that Lady
Elvira would send. She definitely wasn’t going to make it too easy. If slave
mark thought that all his masturbation fantasies were going to come true just
because he’d sent an e-mail he had another think coming. No, the sort of reply
that Lady Elvira would send would reflect her haughty superiority, her total
disdain for mere men and her expectation of their complete servitude. She
plated up her food and returned to the study.
==========================================================
From: ladyelvira@hotmail.co.uk
To:
slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: re: Your
story
==========================================================
You pathetic little
worm!
How dare you pester
me with your e-mail. Do you not think that I have plenty of slaves already? Why
should I go to the time and trouble of training a miserable specimen like you?
Lady Elvira
===========================================================
She clicked
on send and her reply was on its way. Then she turned her attention to the
other e-mails. One, from Bound Billy, was almost playful and Wendy thought
about replying but it didn’t really fit with the Lady Elvira personality so she
left it. The third one was more graphic:-
==========================================================
From: bobthesub@hotmail.co.uk
Subject: Slave
Application
==========================================================
Goddess Lady Elvira
I humbly beseech you
to accept this worthless slave into your castle. It would be my greatest
pleasure to serve you in any way you desired.
If you were to but
say the word I would rush to prostrate my self at your feet.
I am forever yours.
bob
===========================================================
There wasn’t
much to choose between ‘slave mark’ and bob and Wendy felt like playing along
with both of them but, as she stared at the screen, she had second thoughts.
She’d see how slave mark worked out. She could always come back to bob, or, it
would seem, pick up plenty of others just by posting another story.
She opened a
new word document. Given the reaction Lady Elvira definitely deserved a sequel.
She imagined the streets of 19th century Berlin, Lady Elvira’s
carriage clattering across the cobbled streets and pulling up at the best
hotel. Now, how would she and Captain Kurt meet? How would she entice him back
to her castle? For a while she typed away, setting the scene, and occasionally
googling Berlin to check on details. Which hotel would she stay at? What
regiment would Captain Kurt belong to?
After a
while she reached a hiatus. She needed a break so she got up and made a cup of
coffee. When she returned to her PC she still wasn’t quite ready to start
again. Maybe she’d check out the BDSM Library. When she maximised her browser
she found that hotmail was the open tab so before moving on she refreshed the
page. There was new mail; slave mark had replied!
==========================================================
From: slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: re: Your
story
==========================================================
Dear Lady Elvira
I humbly beg your
forgiveness for my impertinence. I grovel naked at your feet, cravenly begging
for the chance to serve. I will do anything, anything at all to show the depth
of my servitude.
Please, please
Mistress, have pity on your slave. I await your command.
slave mark
===========================================================
Well, well, well, Wendy thought to herself, so he’ll do anything at all to show his
servitude. Wendy felt a thrill of excitement. Somewhere, out there, slave
mark must be on line.
==========================================================
From: ladyelvira@hotmail.co.uk
To:
slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: re: Your
story
==========================================================
worm, for worm you
are, and worm you will remain. You squirm in the dirt at my feet where you
belong. I would not sully my boots by using you as my doormat.
It appears that there
might be a position vacant as a stable slave to muck out the horses and polish
the tack. But you have much to learn before you will be accepted for even this
lowly position.
You will NEVER refer
to yourself as ‘I’, you are a worm and you will refer to yourself as such.
Playing with yourself
without my express permission will NOT be tolerated. Do not think that you can
do so behind my back, I will know and you will be punished for it.
I hope worm has a
digital camera. By tomorrow you will send me an HONEST description of yourself
and a picture of your penis.
Your Goddess
Lady Elvira
===========================================================
Wendy
clicked on ‘send’ and the e-mail was on its way. She minimised the browser and,
inspired by her reply to slave mark returned to chapter two of Lady Elvira’s
story.
That night,
as she lay in bed, her mind flip-flopped between images of the bold Captain
Kurt and thoughts of slave mark. She wondered if her prohibition of playing
with himself would have any effect. Obviously Wendy would never know but Lady
Elvira would certainly impose such a rule and enforce it rigorously. Maybe
she’d get her slaves to wear some sort of chastity device, it would make
teasing them so much sweeter. She imagined a spherical cage about the size of
an orange with a circular opening that fitted around the base of a slave’s
prick and balls so that they were squeezed up inside. They would still be able
to take a piss but even getting an erection would be uncomfortable. Then, with
the slave chained spread-eagled against the wall of her dungeons she’d tease
them mercilessly. What was the old saying; if you have them by the balls… She
reached once more for the vibrator; she seemed to be turned on so much nowadays
she’d be buying new batteries at the weekend!
The next day
Wendy was caught up in meetings all day. She hadn’t a moment to check her
e-mail until lunchtime when she stopped to grab a quick sandwich. She logged on
to hotmail; there was nothing new yet but she swallowed her disappointment, she
had to give slave mark time to get a photo together. Still, the anticipation
was half the thrill; she wondered what the response would be, had she been too
harsh, too demanding?
After work
she was invited out to the pub for a quick drink and, given her recent
reclusive lifestyle it would have been churlish to say no. Anyway she enjoyed
the odd bit of time out with the rest of the girls from the office; the chat
was always so much looser in the pub. She didn’t stay long, she was driving
home afterwards so she had to limit herself to a single drink, but, even so, it
was nearly seven-o-clock when she got back and she was famished so she went
straight to the kitchen and started on supper. Only when she’d finished her
Spanish omelette did she go through to her study and log on to her PC. Again
the wait while it booted up, again the wait while Firefox loaded, but, in the
end, to her gratification, there it was, an e-mail from slave mark in her
inbox.
==========================================================
From: slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: Description
Attachment:
photo1.jpg
==========================================================
Dear Lady Elvira
worm begs forgiveness
for his ignorance. worm will never again forget what he is and how he should
refer to himself.
Goddess Lady Elvira
requested a full description
worm is 35, 5’10”
tall, dark hair and clean shaven.
worm weighs 11 stone
and keeps himself fit.
worm’s penis is 5.8”
long when erect and is uncircumcised.
worm is a single,
well educated professional who lives alone.
worm is a non-smoker.
worm lives in Leeds
in the UK.
worm’s likes are foot
worship, bondage and golden showers.
worm’s
dislikes/limits are scat and homosexual contact
worm has attached a
photo. worm hopes this is acceptable.
Your ever obedient
worm.
===========================================================
Wendy
clicked on the attachment and downloaded the photo. It opened as another web
page and showed a limp penis. Wendy was no great expert, she hadn’t had that
may sexual partners, but it looked ordinary enough, but limp, how dare he!
==========================================================
From: ladyelvira@hotmail.co.uk
To:
slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: re:
Description
==========================================================
How pathetic!
A simple request and
you get it so wrong. Never, ever, send me a picture of yourself unless your
penis is FULLY ERECT! You have thirty minutes to rectify this. Furthermore, in
payment for your stupidity, you will find four clothes pegs and attach them to
your scrotum. If you cannot do this do not bother replying.
Furthermore, how can
you possibly think that I would have the slightest interest in the likes and
dislikes of one such as you? I will treat you how I want; your wishes are
completely irrelevant.
Your Goddess
Lady Elvira
===========================================================
Wendy
chuckled as she clicked on the ‘send’ button. She could imagine the panic at
the other end when he got her e-mail. She hoped she hadn’t overdone it. What if
he hadn’t got any clothes pegs? What if he wasn’t at his PC? Was the time limit
too tight? Still, the only thing left was to wait and see. She opened up Lady
Elvira Chapter 2 to keep herself occupied.
She might as
well not have bothered. She was so distracted by the thought of slave mark that
she only typed a dozen or so words. She simply couldn’t get into the swing of
things and, every minute or so, she was switching back to hotmail to see if she
had a reply. The clock seemed to tick so slowly and nearly twenty-five minutes
had gone when…
==========================================================
From: slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: Description
Attachment:
photo2.jpg
==========================================================
Dear Lady Elvira
Your worm grovels
before you in apologies. Please accept the new photo.
Please let worm know
when he may remove the clothes pegs.
Your obedient worm
===========================================================
Wendy opened
the new photo. It showed, as worm had promised, his penis stiff and proud and
with four clothes pegs clipped to his scrotum. She imagined him, naked from the
waist down, sitting at his PC with the pegs biting into his balls.
==========================================================
From: ladyelvira@hotmail.co.uk
To:
slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: re:
Description
==========================================================
Good little worm,
that’s better.
You will wear the
clothes pegs for a while yet. It is important that you learn your lesson.
However, as a reward, you make stroke your penis while you wait. You are NOT
allowed relief.
Your Goddess
Lady Elvira
===========================================================
Wendy went
back to the description he’d sent. Given that he’d described his penis as 5.8”
long it would seem to be pretty accurate. Wendy had never before met a man,
however pathetically hung, who would admit to having less than 9” and she knew
that around 6” was the norm. Anyway, he was far from being the smallest man
she’d met and at least it was nice and plump, not like Trevor’s skinny little
thing. Furthermore the photo, by its very nature, showed worm’s lower stomach
and she could see that he didn’t have a beer belly; in fact he looked quite
trim. Maybe his weight was accurate as well. She still didn’t believe she had
the dashing Captain Kurt at the other end, but he wasn’t the fat slob she’d
also imagined.
She stared
at the photo. Oh, how she wished she were there. The idea of torturing a man by
putting clothes pegs on his balls was a real turn on. She’d stroke it gently,
teasingly, erotically, contrasting the pain of the clothes pegs with the
pleasure of her fingers. Of course, she wouldn’t let him come. As soon as a man
came his interest was over; anyway sexual teasing, keeping a slave on edge of
orgasm for hours, possibly days, would be a far more subtle torture than mere
clothes pegs. As it was she had to make do with knowing that, somewhere out
there, there was someone who was sitting patiently at his PC, his balls in
pain, waiting on her word for release. How should she reward him? What was her
next step? Wendy thought for a while and started writing.
==========================================================
From: ladyelvira@hotmail.co.uk
To:
slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: re:
Description
==========================================================
Lady Elvira has
decided that worm shows sufficient potential that she will take him on as a
stable slave. worm’s job is to ensure that the stables and tack are spotless at
all times.
On the first day Lady
Elvira returns from exercising her stallion. She hands the reins to worm who
takes the horse to his stall. Meanwhile Lady Elvira checks the state of the
stables. At first all seems to be Ok but when she turns back…
“worm! I thought I
told you to keep this place spotless.”
“Yes, Goddess.” worm
replies.
“So what’s that?”
Lady Elvira points with her riding crop. The stallion has emptied its bladder
and a river of urine flows from his stall to a drain. “On your belly, worm.”
worm looks at the
floor and then up at Lady Elvira; there is no doubting her intentions for him.
He lies down in the gutter where the flow is deepest. Lady Elvira places her
foot on his buttocks and shoves hard.
“That’s where you
belong, in the gutter with the rest of the filth, isn’t it?” She sneers.
“Yes, Goddess.” worm
replies.
“Well, don’t forget
it.”
worm may remove the
clothes pegs but is expressly forbidden from playing with himself until further
notice.
===========================================================
Wendy looked
once again at the photo and her hand slipped between her thighs. There was no
denying it, what had started out as intriguing and amusing was now a massive
erotic thrill. The thought of slave mark so obedient, so compliant to her will,
was a real turn on. She started to think of ways she could humiliate him, ways
to reinforce the Mistress/slave relationship, ways that would work using
e-mail. Meanwhile she could return to writing chapter 2. Maybe Captain Kurt
could be made to lie in a puddle of horse piss? Wendy opened the document and
let her imagination run wild.
Before she
went to bed she checked her e-mail. There was, of course, one from slave mark.
She’d open it tomorrow; it wouldn’t do to seem to be too keen, even if that was
the case. Once in bed she snuggled down
beneath the covers, her thoughts a confused jumble of Captain Kurt and slave
mark.
Friday was
one of those days which started badly and got worse. Wendy struggled through
the morning, one boring meeting after another. At lunch time she logged on to
hotmail to see if she had anything new. slave mark’s unread e-mail sat there,
almost taunting her. Part of her, most of her wanted to leave it until the
evening when she’d have time to reply properly, but her inquisitive nature
overcame her patience and she just had to open it. However, it was not as she
had hoped.
==========================================================
From: slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: Friday Night
==========================================================
worm deeply regrets
that he will not be available for training on Friday evening. He prostrates
himself before his Goddess, hoping she will understand, fully expecting to be
punished for his behaviour.
===========================================================
Damn, damn,
damn! The rational part of her realised that, whomever Mark might be, she
couldn’t expect him to be at her beck and call just because of a few e-mails.
However, the rest of her was deeply disappointed; she’d really been looking
forward to the next session. On the other hand Fiona had been pestering her for
a girls night out around the clubs and, after the day she was having, getting
pissed seemed like a good idea. However, worm wasn’t going to get off that
lightly.
==========================================================
From: ladyelvira@hotmail.co.uk
To:
slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: Re: Friday
Night
==========================================================
Lady Elvira is VERY
disappointed in worm She understands his unavailability but he WILL be
punished.
Tomorrow worm is to
go shopping. He will buy
A short length of
chain and a padlock suitable for attaching around the base of worm’s pathetic
genitals.
A pair of pink
panties, nice and girly but with sufficient hold to keep worm’s penis under
control.
A collar with a name
tag.
By six pm worm will
e-mail Lady Elvira with photographs, one of him wearing the chain, and the
other with him wearing the panties. The collar is NOT to be worn until Lady
Elvira says so.
Failure to do so will
terminate your servitude.
===========================================================
There, that will sort him out. Wendy
thought to herself and, with a pique of frustrated anger, clicked on the send
button.
On Saturday
morning Wendy awoke, still half dressed, and with a vicious hangover. Damn, the
car was still at the office, she’d been far too drunk to consider driving home
last night and now she’d have to take the bus into town to collect it. Still,
she could do her weekly shop whilst she was at it and, when all was said and
done, she’d had a great night with the girls. She looked up at the clock.
Heavens! It was well past ten, she’d have to get a move on. She stumbled out of
bed in search of coffee and a shower.
Preston, as
ever on a Saturday, was heaving. She pushed her way around the market buying
fresh veg for the week and, as she did so, she thought about Mark, doing his
shopping in Leeds. Where would he go? Somewhere like B&Q for the chain,
Petworld for the collar and, and this made her smile, somewhere else for the
panties. Dammit, if worm was buying nice undies then so could she, or rather
Lady Elvira could; something to get her in the mood. She dropped off the heavy
shopping at her car and made her way down Fishergate to Debenhams.
As she
sorted through the racks she found plenty that would be suitable for worm. Pink
and frilly, just the thing, it was a pity that there was no way to get them to
him. Still, pink was certainly not Lady Elvira’s colour. A black basque, that
was more like it, with a matching pair of high leg panties and some stockings.
She was sure she had some suitable shoes back home and, if she dug deep enough
at the back of her wardrobe, there was a riding crop she’d had as a teenager
when she used to ride a lot. Satisfied with her purchases she made her way back
to the office to pick up the car.
By the time
she got home it was late afternoon. She put the groceries away and laid her new
underwear out on the bed. It wouldn’t hurt to try them on, would it? She
quickly slipped of her clothes and started to get into the basque. It was quite
heavily boned and, as she tightened it up, she found she was standing
straighter, more regal, more imposing. She slipped on the panties and the
stockings and searched in her wardrobe for the riding crop and some suitable
shoes. Dressed at last she stood before the mirror. Although she was not given
to vanity, she really felt she looked good. She swished the crop through the
air. If only, if only there were a nice firm pair of buttocks to strike.
The thought
occurred to her; she was getting photos from worm, maybe Lady Elvira should
send one in return. They could never get together but at least he could see
whom it was he was worshipping. She dug out her camera and sorted out the timer
mechanism. After a few false starts she had quite a few suitable poses,
especially when she realised it was best if the camera was low down, looking
up. A worm’s eye view, you might say.
She powered
on the PC and attached the camera. A few minutes with the photo editor and
she’d obscured her face and there were several which were ready for posting.
Now, time to fire up hotmail and see if worm had kept his half of the bargain.
==========================================================
From: slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: Shopping
Attachment: photo3.jpg
photo4.jpg photo5.jpg photo6.jpg
==========================================================
Goddess Lady Elvira
worm, your faithful
and obedient slave, has been shopping as ordered. worm kneels before his
Goddess hoping that the attached photographs are to her satisfaction.
Your obedient slave
worm
===========================================================
Wendy
clicked on the first photo. I showed a cushion upon which there was a heavy
black dog collar with an attached nametag. By zooming in she could make out
that the tag had ‘worm’ engraved on it. Hmm… so far, so good; now for the next
one. This showed worms erect penis with the chain she had demanded firmly
padlocked around the base. He had obviously fixed it quite tightly and there
was plenty of spare on the loose end. Two out of two so far. Photo three showed
him from mid-thigh to belly wearing the panties. They weren’t quite what she’d
envisioned; she’d thought of something more girly whereas these were lacy and
feminine. However, they were a pretty shade of pink and the straining material
held his prick very snugly, even if it did poke out of the top quite a bit. The
final photo showed worm from the back, spread-eagled against a wall and wearing
the panties. Although Wendy had got to see bits of his anatomy, well, his
crutch mainly, this was the first time she’d seen the complete man. He’d said
he was thirty-five, and Wendy was now well prepared to believe him. His body
was trim and taught and his hair full and well kempt. Wendy wished she could
see his face but she well understood why not. After all, the photo she had
prepared for him was similarly obscured
==========================================================
From: ladyelvira@hotmail.co.uk
To:
slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: Re: Shopping
Attachment:
photo1.jpg
==========================================================.
Lady Elvira is
pleased with worm’s shopping, it seems that he can get some things right after
all. However, that does not excuse his absence on Friday.
Lady Elvira has sent
for worm and he is being led into the house, naked except for the chain around
his genitals and the cuffs which bind his wrists. He is taken to a small room,
a cell; his wrists are unfastened but only to be reattached to a chain which
stretches up to the ceiling. The chain is adjusted and he stands, almost on
tiptoe, hanging from the cuffs. A blindfold is fixed over his eyes and it all
goes dark. He hears the door open and close again. He is alone, naked, hanging
by his wrists, waiting his punishment.
The time drags by.
Eventually worm hears
the door open again. He senses two people enter. One, it must be Lady Elvira as
he can smell her familiar perfume, goes round behind him, the other… he hears a
rustle of cloth in front of him and suddenly nimble fingers are playing with
his penis, not just fingers but lips and tongue as well. He assumes, he hopes,
he prays that this is Suzi, Lady Elvira’s maid. It doesn’t take much before
worm’s penis is rock hard; it has been days since he was allowed relief and he
has been sexually excited so many times during that period. He senses that this
is some sort of test; he knows he has been forbidden relief and, just because
his penis is in the mouth of a sweet young maid does not remove that
prohibition. He doesn’t know what Lady Elvira will do if he loses his self
control, but he does know it will be painfully unpleasant. He can feel the sap
rising within him; can he keep it under control?
Then Lady Elvira
strikes. It isn’t the crop this time; worm knows that river of fire all too
well. From the spread of the strike, from the way it reaches around and between
his buttocks, worm guesses that she is using a cat-of-nine-tails. It’s not just
his buttocks that take the punishment, every inch of his back, from his
shoulders to his knees, is being whipped and it makes it worse, much worse, not
knowing where the next blow will fall.
At first the pain
isn’t too bad; it’s a harder struggle keeping himself under control as Suzi
works her magic on his penis but, gradually, steadily, Lady Elvira strikes
harder and, as blow lands upon blow, the intensity increases. He bites his lip,
trying to stifle his cries but it’s to no avail; at first a yelp of pain and
then a full-blown cry escapes. He knows that lady Elvira expects, nay demands,
that her slaves take their punishment ‘manfully’ but he’s losing control, he
can’t keep it in much longer.
And then he breaks.
The pain that covers his back, his buttocks, his thighs is too much to fight;
Suzi’s ministrations to his penis serves only to counterpoint the pain. He is
lost in a world of conflicting emotions and all control is gone. His cries have
become an incoherent babble of pleading and sobbing.
At last it is over,
he hangs, suspended by his wrists. The only thing that is not limp is his
penis. Thank God he passed that test!
“Pathetic” Lady
Elvira sneers as she heads for the door.
“Suzi” she continues
“finish him off and return to my room.”
Suzi’s tongue works
away at worms penis…
===========================================================
Wendy
clicked on the send button and the e-mail, with its attached photo is on its
way. Hmm… She’d had to add Suzi, Lady Elvira’s maid, as an afterthought but now
she had done so the extra possibilities were interesting. There were so many
ways in which she could be used to help torment the slaves. She wondered what
worm would make of the e-mail. It had certainly turned her on. How long would
she have to wait until she got a reply? She was too distracted to write, too
fixated on worm to think about Captain Kurt, so she played solitaire in between
refreshing hotmail looking for a reply. She had played five games, and won none
of them, when the new mail arrived.
==========================================================
From: slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: Out of Role
==========================================================
Dear Elvira,
Please forgive this
e-mail but I wanted to talk to you Mark to Elvira, not worm to Lady Elvira.
Thank you so much for
your e-mails. They keep worm constantly excited and aroused. He will reply
fully when Suzi has finished!
More importantly,
thank you so much for the photo. The more we got involved the more I wondered
what you looked like. To find that the real Elvira is a beautiful young woman
is beyond my wildest expectations. To find that the reality matched, nay
exceeded, the fantasy thrills me to the core.
I hope you find our
e-mails as exciting and as erotic as I do. Each evening I can’t wait to get
home to check my inbox. My wish, my dream, is that some day we might meet for
real so I might serve you properly.
Yours
Mark
===========================================================
Wow!
Suddenly the whole thing had taken on a whole new dimension. It wasn’t just
Lady Elvira and worm, it was Wendy and Mark as well. She knew that worm was a
real person, that was much of the thrill, but now he had an extra dimension, a
real real person if you will. The last sentence spun in her mind. My dream is that some day we might meet for
real. Could that happen? Would that
happen? There were so many practical difficulties. There was no way she was
letting him know her real name and address, not until she knew him much, much
better. If he had any sense at all then the same went the other way. That meant
that meeting at either of their houses was out of the question which only left
finding a hotel somewhere. Wendy had spent a lot of time staying in hotels
whilst on business trips and knew only too well how sound travelled between the
rooms. Even if he were gagged the noise of the riding crop would give them
away. Anyway, meeting in a hotel seemed cheap somehow.
But why was
she even considering this, surely she knew the difference between fantasy and
reality. Just because he seemed quite nice, and had sexy body, didn’t mean that
she wanted to… or did she? Part of her, the sensible part, told herself not to
be foolish, not to chase this, to keep it safe and impersonal but another part,
a part that spoke from deep inside her said that if she never took any risks
she’d never have any adventures. Maybe this Mark was the man for her, maybe
together they could explore their sexuality, find thrills far beyond the norm,
maybe…
It’s just not practical. She told herself firmly and turned back
to her PC. The picture of worm spread-eagled against the wall was still on the
screen. If she was there with him, if she had her riding crop… Enough, it’s just NOT practical.
That night,
as Wendy lay in bed, busy once again with her vibrator, her dreams were not of
Lady Elvira and worm, well, not the fictional ones, but of her and slave mark.
If they were to meet it wouldn’t be her fingers against her clitoris, it would
be his tongue; it wouldn’t be her vibrator deep inside her, it would be his
well-constrained prick. She’d chain him, she’d whip him, she’d tease him and,
when she was ready, she’d use him. And if he dare ever, ever, ever, come before
she did, well, he just wouldn’t! With thoughts of herself knelt over his
shackled body, riding him, ramming his prick deep, deep inside herself until
she was totally, completely and absolutely sated, she climaxed, her cries
echoing around the empty cottage.
It’s
just not practical. She told herself once more and rolled over to go to
sleep.
For the next
few weeks Lady Elvira’s relationship with worm blossomed. Nearly every night
they exchanged e-mails, the subject matter getting bolder, more detailed, more
intense. worm progressed from being a stable slave to working around the house;
he was often ordered to service Suzi and, when he performed well he was
rewarded, when he didn’t, or when Lady Elvira was just in one of those moods,
he was punished. Work on Chapter Two for the library ground to a halt as her
e-mails with worm were far more exciting. All the time Wendy had, at the back
of her mind, the thought that, maybe one day, they could meet, they could do it
for real.
==========================================================
From: ladyelvira@hotmail.co.uk
To:
slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: Training
Attachment:
photo23.jpg
==========================================================.
Lady Elvira is ready
for worm’s next training session. She sends word down to the stables where he
is hard at work polishing the tack.
worm immediately
reports to the servant’s entrance where he is met by Suzi.
“You smell
disgusting!” She sneers and, grabbing the chain that is now a permanent fixture
around his genitals, drags him to the slave’s bathroom. Under her watchful eye
worm performs his ablutions. He is to be scrupulously clean before being
presented to Lady Elvira but heaven help him if he spends too long soaping his
penis!
Clean and dry at last
he is led to the drawing room where Lady Elvira is relaxing. As worm falls to
his knees to prostrate himself he notices that there is another woman in the
room who is watching him closely.
“Is this the new
slave?” she asks.
“Yes, he’s only
started basic training but he shows some promise. I haven’t even begun the more
intimate stuff yet.” Lady Elvira replies.
“So you don’t know
whether he’s any good with his tongue?”
“No, in that sense
he’s still a virgin.” Lady Elvira chuckles.
“How sweet. Do you
think I might have a go. I always like to try the beginners. While they lack
finesse I get a buzz out of breaking them in.”
“Of course, my dear.
Do you want to take him to your room?”
“No, right here will
do.” The woman replies. “After all, it will give you a chance to judge his
performance as well.”
“I think he should be
blindfolded, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, indeed. Suzi,
sort him out, will you.”
Suzi fetches a
blindfold and, before he is allowed to raise his head, fits it on worm. Still
on his knees he is led across the room. He hears the rustle of cloth, his head
is lifted by the hair and pushed forward. His lips brush against the strange
woman’s most intimate parts. Tentatively he probes with his tongue. Will he be
good enough to satisfy? How will he be punished if he fails?
===========================================================
One Monday
Wendy had just arrived at work when Louise came over. She was gushing about a
weekend she and her latest boyfriend had spent in the Lake District.
“We rented a
cottage.” Louise explained. “They’re awfully cheap at this time of year and
shagging on the rug in front of the open fire was just fantastic. I mean it’s just like staying at a hotel except so much
more private. No neighbours to complain when you scream the walls down.”
As soon as
Louise had gone Wendy booted up her PC and searched on line for cottages in the
Lake District. It was just as Louise had said. Out of season she could rent one
for the weekend very cheaply and, judging by some of the photos, she could be
as private as she wanted. No neighbours
to complain when you scream the walls down. Louise had said. Hmm… that
could be interesting.
The next
weekend she drove up to the Lakes to look around. The village of Elterwater
seemed perfect. They could meet at the Britania Inn and, if they liked the look
of each other, there were plenty of places to rent within easy walking
distance. As she drove back down the M6 she worked out how she would plan it.
==========================================================
From: ladyelvira@hotmail.co.uk
To:
slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: Assignment
==========================================================.
Lady Elvira demands
that worm will be in the Britania Inn in Elterwater in the Lake District at 8pm
on Friday. worm should sit at the bar and carry a copy of the Financial Times.
worm should be prepared to stay the entire weekend.
Do NOT forget to
bring the collar.
===========================================================
==========================================================
From: slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: Re:
Assignment
==========================================================
Goddess Lady Elvira
worm can hardly
believe his eyes. Is he really going to meet his Goddess at last! I can hardly
wait for the honour, for the privilege, for the ecstasy of serving you.
Will worm be allowed
to wear his collar at last?
Your faithful slave
worm
===========================================================
There, it
was done. Wendy immediately went on to the web site she had found at work and
booked the cottage.
worm wasn’t
the only one who couldn’t wait for Friday night. As soon as she was back at
work on Monday morning Wendy asked her boss if she could have Friday afternoon
off using a fictional hospital appointment as an excuse. Of an evening she was
sorting out what she would take. Her new basque and panties were a certainty,
as was her riding crop, but she’d need more than that. A quick trip to the
shops on Wednesday lunchtime sorted out some chain and padlocks and some
suitable rope. She wondered about buying some more lingerie, one outfit would
not last the weekend, but her credit card was beginning to feel the strain.
Perhaps she’d get worm to buy her one once they were there; after all, she’d
paid for the cottage.
==========================================================
From: ladyelvira@hotmail.co.uk
To:
slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: Tomorrow
==========================================================.
Lady Elvira hopes
that worm will not let her down tomorrow. She is so looking forward to having
her slave squirming at her feet.
If he is good enough,
if he reaches Lady Elvira’s demanding standards, he might be finally allowed to
wear the collar he desires so much.
Remember – 8pm, the
Britania Inn, Elterwater.
===========================================================
Wendy knew
that the e-mail was not really in character for Lady Elvira, it didn’t have the
haughty detachment, but she couldn’t keep her excitement out of it. Was she
really going ahead with this? Would worm pull out at the last moment? Would
she?
==========================================================
From: slavemark@gmail.com
Subject: Re: Tomorrow
==========================================================
Goddess Lady Elvira
worm is so excited he
can hardly control himself. He lives to prostrate himself at Goddesses’ feet.
Lady Elvira can be assured that he will be there.
Your faithful slave
worm
===========================================================
That was it
then, all set for tomorrow.
The next day
Wendy had to hold herself back. Her first thought was to take her overnight bag
with her so that she could go straight off from work but as she couldn’t get
the key to the cottage before four-o-clock that would have been ludicrous. As
it was she was home by twelve thirty and mooching around the house unable to
leave before two thirty or so. At two-o-clock she could stand it no longer, she
just had to get out of the house. She got in her car and headed for Elterwater.
She was ahead of the bulk of the weekend traffic into the Lake District and it
was out of season so the roads were clear and it only took an hour and a half.
When she arrived Wendy took some time out to wander round the village but, even
so, she was first at the office that ran the cottages when she went to pick up
the key.
Thirty
minutes later she’d been shown round the cottage and was unpacking. It was everything
she’d hoped for; cosy but not cramped, nice and warm with the central heating
backed up by a big open fire and a huge pile of logs ready at the side, and a
nice and modern kitchen and bathroom. The front room, as well as being the
biggest, had exposed beams with lots of suitable places to attach ropes and
chains. She went through to the master bedroom and checked out the beautifully
soft double bed. Wendy stripped off, hung up her clothes and ran herself a long
hot bath.
She took her
time in the bath, after all there were several hours before they were due to
meet. She used her best bath oils and luxuriated in the piping hot water,
relaxing, washing the week away, getting into the mood to be thoroughly
pampered. As the water cooled she knew she couldn’t lie there all day, apart
from anything else her fingers were getting wrinkled, but before she got out
she trimmed her pubic hair so that it was neat and tidy. With any luck worm’s
face would be buried there in the near future and it wouldn’t do to have an
unruly bush.
She got out
of the bath and dried herself. She still had plenty of time so she took extra
care with her make up as well as trimming her fingernails and toenails and
applying a fresh coat of bright red varnish to both. This is a job for worm. She thought to herself as she painted her
toenails but she wasn’t going to meet him for the first time without the full
war paint. Maybe he could redo them tomorrow, assuming they got that far. She
wondered if she ought to sort out something to eat, there wasn’t going to be
much opportunity later, but she was too nervous to be hungry. Anyway, she’d had
lunch before she’d left.
She dressed
herself in the basque, panties and stockings. Standing before a full length
mirror she checked that all was Ok; her nerves made her overly critical and she
despaired at what she saw as her flabby thighs. Still, worm had seen it all in
plenty of photos and had always waxed lyrical. Here’s hoping that he wouldn’t
be disappointed when he saw the real thing. Satisfied that she could do no
better she put on what she thought of as her ‘disguise’. She wasn’t going to
meet Mark as Lady Elvira, she wanted to be the one who made the decision as to
whether they went ahead or not, so she dressed in a bulky sweater and some old
jeans. Once she put on the bobble hat and sensible shoes she’d also brought she
looked anonymous, just another visitor to the Lake District, the sort who would
be striding up Helvelyn before breakfast. No one would know of her lingerie
beneath.
By seven
thirty she was sitting at the bar of the Britania nursing a white wine
spritzer. Now all there was to do was wait.
It was
quarter to eight when he arrived; she just knew he’d be early. She’d positioned
herself so that she could see the door in the large mirror that hung behind the
bar. Now that she could finally see his face she was relieved. He was quite
good looking in a ‘boy next door’ kind of way, no Adonis but certainly not
ugly. He was dressed in smart casual clothes and waving his copy of the FT
around like a flag. She took care not to respond but kept her head down,
following him in the mirror out of the corner of her eye. He came up to the bar
and sat down a few seats away, putting the FT on the counter in front of him.
Wendy sipped her drink and glanced sideways. Mark caught her glance and pointed
at the FT hopefully. Wendy gave him a quizzical look.
“Sorry.”
Mark mumbled. “I thought you might be someone I’m supposed to meet.”
“What is
this, some sort of assignation?” Wendy laughed. “Is that the secret symbol?
Shouldn’t it be a white carnation? You must be the only visitor to the Lakes
who brings the FT, most of us just have the walking guides.”
“Something
like that.” Mark replied sheepishly.
“I’m
intrigued. Tell me more.” Wendy noticed Mark’s discomfort. “Don’t worry, I’ll
make myself scarce when she arrives. It is a ‘she’, isn’t it?”
“Err…Yes.”
Mark still looked uncertain but he was starting to melt under Wendy’s smile and
he didn’t complain when she moved over and sat next to him.
As they
chatted Wendy could sense that Mark was relaxing. He still turned and looked
whenever the door opened but his conversation was flowing freely. In fact they
were getting on like a house on fire.
At quarter
past Wendy glanced at the clock.
“She’s
late.” She said.
“Yes, but
she’s worth waiting for.” Mark replied.
“She must be
pretty special if you’re prepared to wait and you don’t even know what she
looks like.”
“Oh, she’s
special, alright. Very special.”
“Wow! You’re
really hooked on her, aren’t you? Tell me about her.”
“Sorry,
that’s private.”
Wendy was
secretly delighted. One the one hand he was open and friendly but he was also
discrete where it mattered. She was really getting to like Mark and was nearly
ready to let on who she was but it was fun to string him along and she was
still a bit nervous about getting involved with a stranger. She finished her
drink and Mark offered to buy her another. That made it her second white wine
spritzer and she knew it would have to be her last; she wanted to keep a clear
head.
By eight
thirty she could tell that Mark was getting anxious. He kept glancing towards
the door and, although they had been getting on really well, he was getting
distracted. Wendy took pity at last.
“What will
you do if she doesn’t come?” She asked.
“Oh, she’ll
come, I know she’ll come.” Mark said earnestly.
“You seem
pretty sure.” Wendy replied.
“It’s just…
Look, I don’t know how to explain this
but I just know she’ll come. She’s a bit of a tease and might keep me
waiting a while but I’m sure she’ll come.”
“Or maybe
she’s already here, worm.” Wendy said quietly.
“It is you!”
Mark exclaimed loud enough to make the barman turn round. “I knew it was, or
rather I hoped it was!”
“Calm down.”
Wendy ordered. “Are you ready for this?”
“Yes, my Lady.”
Mark’s voice was quiet again but it was obvious he was very excited. “Of
course, my Lady.”
“This is how
it’s going to work. This is the key to Fell View cottage.” Wendy took the key
out of her pocket and slid it along the bar. “It’s left out of the pub, first
left, and then fourth cottage on the right. The name’s on the gatepost. You
have ten minutes to go and get ready. You are not to go in the bedroom, you’re
to stay in the front room. Whilst we’re in the cottage we’re Lady Elvira and
worm, outside we’re Mark and Wendy. Oh, and your safe word is ‘radish’. Have
you got all that?”
“Yes, m…
Yes.” Mark finished his pint and picked up the key. “I’ll be off then. Fell
View, first left, fourth cottage on the right. See you in ten minutes.”
“That’s
right. See you in ten.”
Wendy’s
heart raced. This was it, in ten minutes what had started as a fantasy would
become real. Mark seemed really nice; sure, she’d keep her pepper spray close
for a while yet, but she had a really good feeling about him. The hands on the
clock seemed to be stuck, even if she went slowly it would take her a only a
minute or so to walk the two hundred yards back to the cottage and she didn’t
want to spoil anything by arriving too early. She downed her spritzer and, on a
sudden whim, ordered a lemonade. She remembered that worm had expressed a
liking for golden showers and lemonade would be just the thing to prime the
pump, so to speak.
Time to go
at last. Wendy walked down the street, quiet in the twilight. When she got to
the cottage she slipped round the rear and let herself in through the back
door. This let her get to the bedroom without going near the front room and
being seen by worm. She slipped off the shoes, hat, jeans and sweater and put
them away neatly. A few moments in front of the mirror with her brush repaired
the damage the bobble hat had done to her hair. She slipped on her high heels,
picked up the riding crop and checked herself out in the mirror. Her anxiety
from the pub was gone; she was no longer nervous Wendy, her place had been
taken by super confident Lady Elvira. She opened the door, went down the hall
and into the front room. worm was waiting on his knees wearing nothing but the
pink panties and the chain round his genitals. His head was bowed and, in his
cupped hands, he held the collar out before him.
“Right
worm,” Lady Elvira’s voice dripped contempt. “Where shall we start…”
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