Maggie and the Master (16 page)

Max's expression hardened. ‘Well, Maggie?' he pressed. ‘Would you prefer that I rip it off you and whip your disobedient little arse until you scream for mercy?'

Slowly, her pulse roaring in her ears, she rose and the hubbub of conversation dropped to a low murmur, and then fell silent completely.

Slowly she reached back and unfastened the zip of the evening gown, feeling the heat of humiliation and embarrassment coursed through her veins as she caught Cedric's eyes. His ruddy face was full of undisguised lust. Slowly she slipped the straps down off one shoulder and then the next, and slid the dress down to reveal her full breasts. Her hands were trembling and it took every shred of courage and self-control not to pull the fabric back up and cover herself.

The dress lowered to her waist and she eased it down over her hips to reveal the chain around her waist and between her legs. There was an appreciative murmur as the dress finally dropped to the floor, and she looked at Max, her complexion flushed crimson.

He took her hand. ‘Get on the table,' he commanded.

Maggie let out a tiny whimper, audible only to those around them. Even so, she did as she was told and lay down on her back amongst the remaining silverware and crockery.

‘Very good,' he said. ‘Now open your legs wide and touch yourself.'

Maggie froze for a moment, but his eyes were broody and she knew there was no going back. ‘Stroke yourself, my little one,' he ordered. ‘Don't let me down, now.'

Maggie closed her eyes against the shame engulfing her, and sliding a finger beneath the chain began to circle her clitoris. Her sex was embarrassingly wet, her clit already sensitised by the constant rubbing of the chain links.

‘Give my friends a little more,' he urge, and with her other hand Maggie began to stroke her breasts, teasing her nipples into rigid peaks. She could feel the eyes of the all people in the room upon her, terrified and mortified and yet in the same instant breathlessly excited by the feeling it ignited in her, the sense of power rippling though her. She began to finger herself more urgently, her thumb working her pleasure bud, and she started moving against the caress, lifting her hips, opening her legs wider still. And against all the odds she felt the pleasure begin to build in the pit of her belly.

‘Ask me,' Max reminded her, drawing her out of the dreamy state into which she was falling.

Ask him, her mind urged; ask him now before it's too late. ‘Please, master,' she murmured, ‘may I come?'

He chuckled approvingly. ‘Yes, little one,' he said, and eased a finger deep into her sex. She cried out in pleasure, lifting herself to give him greater access. As she did the first wave of orgasm rolled through her body, and she could feel her sex closing around him and surrendered.

She fucked his fingers like a whore, driving herself on and on to greater and greater heights until finally she could take no more and fell back, all tension gone, lying still, aware again of the eyes on her and the press of the table against her back.

Max stood and stepped away, took an envelope from his pocket and opened it.

Maggie closed her eyes again, unable to imagine what might follow. ‘Number seventeen,' he announced to the room, and Maggie stiffened; what did that mean?

There was a general murmur amongst the diners, and then a guffaw of delight from someone on the far side of the room, and then Maggie realised with repulsion that not only was she the cabaret, she was also first prize in the raffle!

With her eyes still closed in a futile attempt to block out what was happening to her, Max handed an unseen master the key to the padlock and cold hands slipped under the chain to unfasten her. ‘You're so wet,' drooled a gruff voice. ‘Your cunt looks so succulent… good enough to eat…'

Maggie was almost afraid to open her eyes, but she had to, and was confronted by a craggy, elderly man looming over her. Not that his age or appearance mattered, of course; she had no say in the matter; he'd won her and that was his only concern.

‘Get up on all fours,' he ordered, and Maggie did as she was told and felt the man struggle up onto the table behind her, heard him unfasten his fly, and felt him push her head down onto the tabletop so that her bottom and sex where presented for him.

‘That's better,' he wheezed, his fingers pushing deep inside her, and then she was aware of his cock nuzzling and demanding entry at the engorged entrance of her sex, and of a murmur of approval rippling through the onlookers as he eased his cock into her vulnerable body.

Grunting like an animal he stabbed with his hips and embedded his erection fully inside Maggie, one hand on her hip, the other seeking her swaying breasts to roll and pinch her throbbing nipples. Maggie whimpered against the discomfort, so very shamefully close to an orgasm. Behind her the old man pushed more aggressively and she guessed it wouldn't take much to draw him over the edge. Then just as she began to find his rhythm, accepting her fate and wanting to conclude it promptly, the man slapped her buttocks sharply with a rigid leather paddle. She bucked instinctively and he snorted with delight.

‘Ride me, you lovely little bitch!' he guffawed triumphantly, like a jockey driving his mount on to greater efforts. He beat her again, harder this time, and it was obvious to Maggie that her pain excited him. She cried out as he struck a third time, the slaps in time with his ever-quickening thrusts, and then they were both there at the pinnacle and Maggie felt him come, felt his cock throbbing deep, deep inside her, and cried out as the waves of pleasure swamped over her.

Chapter Twelve

‘Maggie?'

She looked up from her desk, her mind a million miles away from the bustling offices of the magazine. It was the first day in almost two weeks that Maggie had been back in to work, preferring the peace and quiet and thinking space of working from home. Her prolonged absence meant that there were a huge pile of notes and post in the in-tray for her to sort through, and innumerable messages on the answer machine. Not that Maggie was unduly worried, she had already emailed in the stories and articles she'd been working on, well inside the deadline, so the day had been spent mostly on administration and sorting out ideas for future features and articles with the editor.

Across the desk Simon grinned at her. ‘Well, well, well, nice to see you back at long last, Maggie,' he said. ‘So how did your research go the other week? Recovered, have you? I've been wondering where you've been hiding. I was going to give you a ring to see how you are. I have to say, your outfit - the one you had on when I last saw you? - it took me by complete surprise. I didn't have you down as the kind of girl who likes fetish gear. Mind you, we live and learn; they always say it's the quiet ones you've got to watch. And I must say,' his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, ‘you looked fucking gorgeous in that gear. I could have screwed you there and then.'

Maggie felt her hackles beginning to rise. This was getting ridiculous. ‘Please go away, Simon,' she said bluntly. ‘I'm really busy, and I don't want to talk to you.'

He blew a lurid kiss at her. ‘Oh come on, baby,' he went on, totally undeterred. ‘You and I have got unfinished business together.'

Maggie sighed. ‘I don't think so, Simon,' she disagreed. This was getting way beyond a joke, and as she spoke she surreptitiously turned the computer screen away from him and clicked the mouse so that the email she had just been reading disappeared behind other pages. It was the thing she feared most - the email from Max Jordan with details of the forthcoming slave auction. It seemed that every time she had any dealings with Max at work they coincided with running in to Simon.

‘Look,' he said, his voice still lowered so no one else could hear their conversation. ‘We just got off on the wrong foot, that's all. I'm very attracted to you; you must know that. I only want to know you better, that's all. Why not give it a chance, Mags? Let's start over, shall we? What have you got to lose? You looked bloody fantastic in that PVC outfit, and I'd have sold my soul to have taken you out that night.'

Deep down she was pleased to have made such an impression, it was just a shame that she had no other feelings for Simon other than immense dislike and pure annoyance. He was like a mosquito that kept buzzing around bugging her, but for the sake of good manners she made every effort to keep her expression and her tone as neutral as she could manage. ‘Simon, I keep telling you I'm not interested,' she reiterated. ‘But you just don't seem to get it, do you? So I'm going to lay it on the line one more time. I'm not interested in you, and I've already told you that I'm already seeing someone else, and if you persist in harassing me I'm going to make a complaint. Now is
that
clear enough for you?'

It wasn't quite all true, but she was hoping it would deter him from harassing her.

‘Really?' Simon said sceptically, ignoring the threat. ‘That's all very convenient. So tell me again, where did you find him? In a lonely-hearts ad? Or did a friend take pity on you and fix you up with some no hoper.'

It was all Maggie could do not to slap his smug face. ‘That's it; I don't want to talk to you, Simon,' she said, reaching the end of her tether. ‘I've got a few more things to do here and then?'

‘And then you're off home to see your imaginary boyfriend?' he said with an infuriating grin, and then sauntered back off across the office.

Maggie looked away, not trusting herself to say anything. Things were bad enough already. Max's instructions to her were explicit. Guido was to pick her up from her house the following day, Friday, at lunchtime. She was to ensure to keep the whole weekend and Monday free. There would be an exhibition on the first evening, when the various lots up for sale would be put on view for the masters, mistresses, and any guests to examine, and then they would be put through their paces for anyone who requested it. On Saturday morning the viewing would continue and then after lunch the sale would begin in earnest.

Maggie stared at the computer screen, a great wave of grief and nervousness rising in her chest. She had come so far over the last few weeks since meeting Max, without him the journey undertaken would have been impossible. He had become such an important part of her life and she feared losing him almost more than she feared the unknown.

Maggie glanced up at the office clock; by this time tomorrow she would be well on her way to the mysterious location, just a lot in a slave auction, numbered, catalogued and ready to be sold to the highest bidder. She shivered and tried to still her panic by turning her attention back to the practicalities. The email said she was to wear a long coat, black stockings and her collar - nothing else. Guido would have the rest of her outfit when he collected her. If she was honest with herself, Simon Faraday and his unwanted attentions were the last of her worries.

‘How on earth do I get into this?' she asked, looking at Guido, who had arrived promptly with a black cardboard box tied around with a huge red ribbon.

In her hand was a black rubber corset with attached suspenders, cut to support her breasts but not quite cover them, and it was open at the crotch to reveal her sex lips. Guido handed her a container of talcum powder.

‘Dust plenty on yourself and in the corset, and then roll it up and pull it on,' he instructed her. ‘When you're done I'll polish you.'

They were standing in the hallway of her house, with an overnight bag at her feet, and it occurred to Maggie that Guido fully expected her to dress in front of him. It was strange how things had changed. She slipped off her raincoat under his watchful gaze, praying he didn't want to fuck her before they left. Knowing that Max wanted her to make him proud she had carefully oiled her body and meticulously trimmed her pubic hair, just as Mrs Griffin would have prepared her had they been at his house. Make-up and perfume carefully applied, she was aware of the paradox of wanting to please Max and yet at the same time knowing that each passing minute drew her closer and closer to losing her place with him.

Guido watched with icy amusement as she wriggled into the tight rubber corset, helping her pull it up over her hips and ribs and then breasts, easing the straps up over her shoulders and then with a soft cloth and a little spray canister buffing the latex to high shine. Maggie looked at herself in the hall mirror, the stretchy material seemed to hold her in and push her out in all the right places, making her breasts appear full and ripe above a narrow waist and rounded hips.

Guido's hands moved appreciatively over her tightly encased frame, and stopped buffing long enough to slip a hand between her thighs. ‘It suits you,' he said, dropping to his knees to help her fasten the suspenders to the tops of her stockings.

His close attention caused her to blush. ‘Who is going to be at this auction, Guido?' she asked anxiously. ‘Will Kay and Mike be there, and all those people from the theatre?'

He looked up at her. ‘Probably, and a lot of the others besides,' he confirmed. ‘And the old guard as well, members who only come out of the woodwork to take a long hard look at the new blood.'

‘And where is this place we're going to?'

‘My, my, but we really are nervous, aren't we?' he mocked. ‘It's a place up north, a country estate owned by Sir Hugh. He and Max are old friends, they go back a long way. He's a good man, and if you're lucky maybe he'll buy you. Or maybe you could persuade Max to give you to him as an early Christmas present.'

Maggie felt her eyes filling up with tears. How could she possibly tell Guido that she had barely slept the night before worrying about what might happen to her, wondering where she might end up and with whom. She had no idea what the rules of the game were. Then to her total surprise Guido straightened up and put his arm around her. ‘Don't worry,' he said comfortingly, pulling her close. ‘It'll be all right.'

‘I don't know if it will, Guido,' she said openly. ‘Where's Max? Why isn't he here too?'

‘He's gone on ahead to help with the arrangements. But really, you shouldn't get upset. This is the way it goes. Max will make sure it works out all right for Maggie. He's got a knack with this sort of thing. All his girls have ended up okay. Honestly, his slaves command a high price, and you're one of his all time favourites. You'll be just fine. Max will see to it.'

Maggie was grateful for his kindness, even if she suspected it would be short-lived. Guido looked at his watch. ‘Come on, you better get your coat on, we've a way to go yet.'

He was right. The drive to Sir Hugh's country estate seemed to take hours. Maggie's skin felt hot and damp under the rubber corset and her coat. As cityscapes gave way to rolling countryside and lush green hills, she watched fascinated, lulled into a waking doze by the constant movement of the car as the miles unfolded. On one occasion as the car swung out to overtake a lorry Maggie, disturbed awake by the manoeuvre, shifted position and realised how hot and uncomfortable she was in the corset.

Guido smiled at her in the rear-view mirror. ‘Why don't you take your coat off?' he suggested.

For once she agreed with him, and oblivious to what sort of image she presented in the back of the car she slipped it off, curled up on the backseat with the coat under her head and let sleep claim her.

Eventually the car slowed and Maggie opened her eyes just as they drew up to a huge pair of wrought-iron gates. Guido slowed to a crawl while a camera on the wall scanned them thoughtfully, its single critical eye watching them closely. Slowly, haltingly the gates creaked into life, and once moving swung open silently, allowing them to drive on to the estate.

The avenue that led to the house swept in through a copse of trees, finally opening out onto a dramatic vista - an old country house surrounded by a moat and acres of rolling parkland, with a herd of red deer grazing under some distant oaks. Maggie gasped. It was far, far grander than anything she had anticipated.

It was built on a great square. Outbuildings and walls with turrets and castellations led the eye to the main house where ornate formal gardens flanked each side of the main entrance, which was reached over a drawbridge.

‘Impressive, huh?' said Guido, as they drove slowly along the sweeping avenue to the house.

It was quite an understatement.

‘We're staying here?' gasped Maggie, dragging her coat on; there was no way she wanted to arrive wearing nothing but the exotic rubber corset.

‘No, don't cover yourself up,' Guido stopped her. ‘That's the whole point of you wearing it; Max will want to show you off.'

They rolled in under the main gates, which were topped with the family crest, under the heavy wooden portcullis and across the gravelled quad to the entrance where Maggie could see Max waiting. Guido opened the rear door of the car and told her to wait, although it was all she could do to stop herself from running up the stone steps and into her master's arms.

Standing to one side of Max was a very distinguished man who Maggie guessed was their host. Guido took a fine leather lead out of his jacket pocket, snapped it to Maggie's collar and then led her, wearing only the black rubber corset, stockings and high heels up the steps of the house, where he handed the lead to Max.

For the moment Maggie was oblivious to her appearance. She could see the pride on Max's face, and wanted nothing more than to please him, even though it struck her that his was not the look of a lover but of a collector, delighted by the impression his possession would make on others.

Their host smiled. ‘Well, damn me, Max, if you haven't done it again, although I suppose after all these years I should expect nothing less.'

‘Thank you, Hugh, would you care to inspect her?'

‘A little preview?' the man mused appreciatively, eyeing Maggie up and down, and a good slave to her master, she kept her eyes respectfully downcast. ‘Yes, of course, that would be most agreeable.'

Max tucked the looped end of the lead between her teeth and she stood as she'd been taught, very still with her hands behind her back, feet apart so that Sir Hugh could examine here.

‘What very nice breasts,' he said, cupping first one and then the other in his palms, brushing the nipples with his thumbs, the treacherous little buds hardening instantly under his touch. ‘Very nice indeed.' He nodded appreciatively and dropped a hand to her flat tummy, and then lower to the mound of her sex, a single finger parting the wet lips of her quim, working lower to enter her.

‘Hmm… nice and tight here,' he considered. ‘And what about her delightful bottom?'

‘You'll find it's in a similar condition,' Max assured him. ‘She might need a little stretching yet if one would want to use her regularly, but she is very willing, very eager to please, and very nicely spirited, too. She's actually good company, unlike some I've trained. What more could a devoted master want?'

Sir Hugh nodded sagely, his eyes narrowing as he considered and concurred with Max's words. Then he withdrew his finger and touched it to his lips, then sucked it, appearing to savour the taste and fragrance like a connoisseur considering a fine wine or a Cuban cigar.

‘But is she presentable?' he asked, his eyes holding hers as he addressed Max.

‘That goes without saying, Hugh.' Max took Maggie's lead again. ‘Now would you object if I took her upstairs and got her settled?'