Shamed (4 page)

She had sworn Maud to secrecy over the events on the Elvira. They would
however talk often about what happened, late at night in hushed tones in the
privacy of Prudence’s room. The troubled servant finally coming to terms with
Prudence’s assurances that, despite everything, she had secretly enjoyed the
experience. She found Maud eventually wanting to learn more and more of how
they had done it and how it had felt. Prudence would play out her fallen woman
fantasies again, but this time with Maud as a companion, taking the place of
the unsavoury gentleman customers, pleasing her mistress with a hairbrush
handle.

The kids were running around like lunatics and getting under her feet
and Chris was trying to rein them in and make sure they had all their school
stuff together before he bundled them into the car so he could drop them off on
his way to work. She finished the sandwich boxes and pushed them into the
backpacks on top of the random assortment of books and sports kit and handed
them to Chris. He gave her a quick peck and called to the kids to get into the
car.

“I’ll get finished as soon as I can at work, but I’m going to be late
back whatever happens.” He apologised.

Nicole gave him an understanding smile as she brushed a strand of loose
hair from her face. Like everyone else she knew times were hard, money was
short. But they got by better than some she knew. The overtime Chris got at the
factory came in handy and she worked when the kids were at school, as a
domestic cleaner.

Once she had watched Chris and the kids disappear out of sight around
the corner she closed the front door and did a quick round up of stray clothing
and toys, washed the breakfast plates and cups and headed up for a shower.
Freshened and make-up applied she dressed and packed her hold-all with the days
requirements for her job.

 By ten o’clock she was at her first call in Farleigh Crescent and
in elbow length rubber gloves, was scrubbing the toilet and bringing
a sheen
to the bathroom. Bathroom first - that was the way
Mrs. Smart liked it done. She always paid by cheque which was a nuisance and
never quite found the time to drag herself away from the television to utter
more than a “thanks love” when
  Nicole
had
finished her chores.

Due to the late arrival of the bus she was ten minutes late to the
Hindhurst
Road house but it didn’t matter. The two men who
shared the place were both at work and she let herself in with the key they had
entrusted her with. Though it was never spoken aloud, she knew they were a gay
couple and she often wondered just why they wasted their money on employing a
cleaner three days of the week.   They kept the place spotless
themselves and her tasks amounted to little more than a quick vacuum around,
dust a few surfaces and take out the rubbish on a Wednesday. Finishing early as
she usually did she
spent
the last thirty five minutes
sat out on the patio smoking a cigarette while she flicked through a
magazine.  On her way out she collected the cash that was always left on
the hallway table and locked up.   

She normally caught the bus to Mr. Jordan’s, her last call of the day.
But as the weather was pleasant today she decided to walk.  No sooner had
turned into the tree lined avenue of Spring Grove than she felt the butterflies
begin in her stomach. The large houses sat back from the road had pristine
gardens and looked altogether grander and far removed from the houses in the
street where she lived. Passing number 42, her favourite, she allowed herself a
few seconds of daydreaming before the butterflies returned again and Mr.
Jordan's home at number 88 came into view. She felt her breathing deepen and
feeling herself blush she lowered her face and watched her feet as she walked
the last few yards even though there was no-one around to bear witness. Finally
she reached the gate and walked up the long path to the front door. As per the
arrangement, she rang the doorbell twice then entered the house. Placing her
hold-all in the oak panelled hallway she immediately climbed the staircase. At
the top she made her way straight to the bathroom and, leaving the door ajar,
stripped off her cleaning attire and stepped into the shower.  She
showered long enough to feel refreshed and to quickly ensure she was well
shaved. On the heated rail was a lush towel already warmed and once she had
dried herself she stopped for a moment to look at
herself
in the large mirror.

She never felt that she looked anything special. Certainly not model
standards anyway but her figure was ok and with her hair done she felt
passable. Chris was always reassuring her about her looks but it was Mr. Jordan
who made her feel differently about herself in a whole new way.
A way that she couldn’t explain.
She couldn’t even explain
how she had ended up where she was. She had responded to the advert in the
local paper for a domestic cleaner, got the job after a brief, formal,
interview in Mr. Jordan’s study and for the first three weeks everything had
been normal. Then he had started to make suggestions. Subtle at first, how her
hair would look nicer in a certain style. How her make-up would look better
with a certain shade of lipstick, eye-liner done a certain way. She wasn’t sure
why she had taken any notice really, but she did and after each change,
normally just for her visits to Mr. Jordan’s, she found a bonus in her pay
packet at the end of the week.

Nicole put the towel into the wash basket and gathered up her carrier
bag. She walked naked across the landing to a room at the end and went inside.
Here, she sat before the dressing table in the small bedroom and did her
hair and make-up just the way Mr. Jordan liked it. Satisfied she stood and felt
the nerves jangling through her body as she looked over her shoulder at herself
again in the mirror. A breast, just visible as she twisted, small, a
handful just about as Chris would say, her waist nipped in just enough to get
away with and then her bottom, rounded but firm. She turned then to face the
mirror, her nipples prominent, stiffened with anticipation, the bare flesh of
her groin. That had earned her a good bonus.  Mr. Jordan had asked “how do
you dress below”.  After some confusion she finally realised what he was
asking about. Hugely embarrassed she never the less found herself compelled to
answer him. He suggested that he would appreciate it much more if she was
cleanly shaven.  It took longer for her to take action that time, she
hadn’t looked that way since she was a young girl and couldn’t imagine
reverting. Finally she had done it and although hideously shamed when providing
the proof the bonus in her pay pack had been the biggest yet.  It seemed
strange that Chris did not even question her sudden change from “furry beaver”
to “shaven haven”. He liked it too so she had kept it that way and she was
pleased that Chris’ didn’t ask as she had no idea how she would answer him
convincingly.

Then Mr. Jordan’s requests became more extreme and Nicole found herself
thinking that she should leave. But the money was too good and, no matter how
ashamed she felt afterwards, the increased money in her wage packet each time
always seemed to outweigh the feelings of guilt and wrong that knotted her
inside as she went home to her family.  She was torn between feelings of
being something akin to a prostitute and yet she was unable to give up on the
money that so helped the family. But it wasn’t just the money. She also felt a
strange need to return each week – something calling her more than the money.
Something that made her feel ashamed and exhilarated at the same time in a way
she could not understand or explain.  Neither could she explain how she
allowed Mr. Jordan to persuade her to behave in this way.  All she knew
was that now, she would do whatever Mr. Jordan asked of her, no matter how
humiliated she felt at the time, no matter how subversive she thought his
suggestions to be. She felt nothing for him. She was not afraid of him, yet she
was compelled to follow his each and every suggestion, she didn’t know why or
how.  It had started with exposing her breasts to him, then to touching
herself for him, then after having suggested she select a sex toy from a
catalogue, the following week he presented it to her and asked her use it. From
there things had gone on beyond what Nicole could possibly have imagined in her
previous naiveté. 

Nicole caught herself deep in thought and realised she needed to
prepare. She reached beneath the dressing table and retrieved a pair of high
heel shoes which she stepped into.  In a drawer she found the leather
collar with a ‘D’ ring that she wore around her neck, as always at Mr. Jordan’s
behest. On her wrists she fastened the leather cuffs that also had a ‘D’ ring
on each. Finally around her ankles she placed the leather ankle cuffs with ‘D’
rings. She always felt as if it was like a suit with no clothes.
Just the collar and cuffs.
Drawing a deep breath she opened
the door and walked edgily to the top of the stairs, the shoes pulling her
calves taught and straightening her posture. Then slowly she descended the
stairs taking care because of the tall slender heels. Reaching the hallway she
heard the click of the heels increase on the polished wooden floor and, passing
several others, she approached the door to the summer room.  She knocked
once and waited for Mr. Jordan to bid her to enter. She found his ways unusual,
weird even, but put it down to his class and upbringing. At the sound of his
voice she opened the door and with her heart racing stepped into the room.

Mr Jordan was seated in his wheelchair at the patio windows looking out
into the garden, a hand lazily stroking his beard. Nicole closed the door
behind her and stepped into the centre of the room, the shoes quietened now by
the deep pile of the rug. He was, she thought, about sixty - maybe sixty five -
and gave the impression of belonging to a different world, one that was fast
fading into the past.

“Good morning Nicole.” He said without looking at her. “How are you
today?”

“I’m very well Mr Jordan.” She replied, an almost imperceptible tremble
in her voice. She stood as straight as possible with her hands by her sides,
the palms pressed against her thighs.

“The tits are very playful in the garden today.” He remarked. “I’ve
been watching them for an hour or more.
Such delightful
creatures.”
Nicole did not answer.

He manoeuvred the wheelchair around to face her and for a moment just
sat and stared at her.

“And you
Nicole,
are you feeling playful
today?”

“I am Mr Jordan.”

“Did you come on the bus?”

“Um, no.
Today I decided to walk.”

“That’s disappointing to hear Nicole. You know how I like you to ride the
bus.”

“I do. I’m sorry. It was a nice day....”

“I like you to ride the bus on the back seat with your hand inside your
clothing Nicole.” He interrupted her, his voice a little sterner. “I like to
know that you have done that before arriving here.”

“I know Mr Jordan.” Nicole hung her head “I am sorry.”

He let out a deep sigh and wheeled the chair closer to her on the rug.

“I hadn’t intended punishing you today, but I’m disappointed. You have
disappointed me Nicole. Do you understand?”

Nicole nodded her head keeping her eyes focused on the rug. She could
feel his eyes wandering over her body but resisted the desire to cover herself
with her hands. She kept them pressed by her side.

He told her to go to the study and fetch the stool. She gave no
response but turned and walked erect, as he liked her to, determined not to let
him see the slight tremble that had taken hold of her hands. The heels clicked
as she walked naked through the house to the study, collected the stool and
carried it back to the summer room. 

She placed the stool in the middle of the rug. She knew the routine
from here. She crossed silently to a cupboard and took out a cane. Then she
stopped at the bureau and from a small draw at the front she collected a small
velvet pouch. Nicole carried the items over to Mr Jordan and handed him the
cane. Then she stood before the stool, opened the velvet pouch and tipped its
contents into her hand.  Mr Jordan positioned himself closer to the stool
so that he had a clearer view.

“You may roll it now.” He said. In Nicole’s palm was a dice. But it was
no ordinary dice. Rather than the usual 1 to 6 it was numbered in increments of
five up to thirty. Nervously she rolled the dice around in her sweating palms,
her bottom lip clenched between her teeth, her mind willing as any gamblers
might do for a sympathetic number to be revealed as she threw.
Please
,
she thought
please be low
.

Noticing Mr Jordan’s impatience growing, she finally let the dice fall
onto the top of the stool. It spun on its edge for a few moments, tantalising,
until finally settling.

15. Nicole groaned.
Fifteen!
Neither good nor
bad.
Mr Jordan tapped her on the bottom with the tip of the cane.
“If you are ready.”
He said. Nicole buried her face in her
hands for a moment, before shaking her mind free of her nerves and with gritted
teeth bent forward and placed her palms on the stool. The cane tapped at the
inside of her calves, Mr Jordan reminding her that her legs needed to be spread
wide apart. This made it harder. She had to manoeuvre her feet carefully so
that she didn’t turn an ankle in the high heels and equally, being that much
taller in them she had to bend down further until her upper body was pressed
down on top of her hands on the stool. Her knees began to shake almost
immediately.

“Fifteen then.”
Mr Jordon announced
,
she could hear the change of tone in his voice to one of
barely suppressed glee.
“Fifteen!
I’m sure you’ll
enjoy it Nicole”.