Driving Miss Jones
Introduction:
I was her driver. She disrespected me.
Driving Miss Jones.
She wore a little yellow dress, so short that it barely reached her stocking tops. Her long blonde hair needed combing. She looked like she was half asleep, either that or she needed a fix, She was half an hour late, we said six thirty but she tottered down the long flight of stone steps towards the car just before seven.
“You’re late,” I said brusquely, and paused insolently before I added,
“Madam.”
“You can cut out the funnies Henderson,” she said, “Got any Asprin, my head is banging like an Oasis concert.”
“In your bag Madam,” I suggested, but she didn’t have it, nor her overnight case, “Which room?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied unhelpfully, “Bedroom?” she suggested narrowing it down to one of about twenty four possible rooms, in the imposing country mansion where she had crashed for the night.
I sprinted up those stone steps and hurtled through the door, “Oi servant’s entrance!” Higgins the butler ordered.
“Miss Jones cases?” I asked.
“Servants entrance.” he repeated, “Chauffeurs enter through the servants entrance.”
“Do you really need a broken jaw?” I asked politely, “Because Miss Jones needs her grip and overnight case right now, and it’s supposed to be your job to bring them out.”
I suppose I was rather forceful, but I never touched him, he took two steps back and tripped to sprawl inelegantly across the expensive rug at bottom of the imposing main staircase, so I stepped over him and immediately began to climb the stairs two treads at a time.
“Third on the right don’t disturb.” he said almost apologetically as he struggled to stand up.
Third on the right was a bathroom, and, as I flung it wide open I found the next room was Lady Baxter’s bedroom, I always thought she was very well preserved for her forties, but she should really have bolted her door, and then I never would have caught that fleeting glimpse of the way her naked tummy bulged without her corset, and her breasts sagged without her wonderbra.
I slammed the door shut again before she could scream, but of course she had seen me, and my dark Chauffeurs uniform let her identify me in a split second. The next door was worse, Lord Baxter was sitting on his bed naked and admiring his erection, nothing to be proud of really but with a beer belly like his I’m surprised he could actually see it, perhaps that’s why he was looking in the mirror!
I shut his door quietly, a woman in a sexy french maids costume stared at my quizzically, “Can I help you sir.” she said in an unattractive home counties burr and I realised she was actually a genuine chambermaid and not a ageing tart.
“The woman, Miss Jones which room?” I asked, she looked blank, “The tart in the yellow dress?” I offered.
“Oh yes, this one third on the right.” she said. To any normal person it was fourth on the left but this was Northamptonshire so logic went out of the window, and she opened the door with her key.
“I say!” a rather dishevelled young man exclaimed, I recognised him as Robert, Lord Baxter’s eldest son, and heir, “Might have knocked.” he set down the mirror with twin trails of powder across it as carefully as his trembling fingers would allow, “What you want?”
“Miss Jones cases,” I asked, he looked blank, “Cassandra, Cassie.” he looked blank, “Jonesey?”
“Right, bangs like a dead fish,” he said, “Not paying for that.”
“Case and grip!” I demanded, but I had seen the grip already and her laptop on the dresser.
I grabbed the Laptop, an image of a girl on a pole suddenly appeared and I realised it was showing a porn film, I marvelled at the girl’s capacity to take what looked like a telephone pole inside her for a split second, before I yanked out the broadband and charger leads and stuffed it all in its protective soft case.
“That’s her work Laptop you idiot!” I said, as I put it in her case and realised her suit was missing. To my relief I found it hung neatly on the back of the bedroom door, so I folded it and put it away carefully.
Her grip was beside the bed with all it’s contents strewn around, “Insisted on me wearing a Johnny!” he explained, and added “Bitch!” as an afterthought as I gathered up the contents.
I grabbed the case and grip and rushed from the room, his Lordship blocked my way, “Not good enough, bloody servants not allowed ok, and you frightened the lady wife, I shall report you to your employer.”
I knew his type from the army, cowardly little pricks that hug around in GHQ when we were out dodging stray AK47 fire in Iraq or IEDs in Helmand.
“Very good sir, will that be all sir,” I said and I wished I had a hand free to thump him but instead I pushed past him and ran downstairs, I nearly fell down the stone steps outside, but managed to stay upright and I put the cases in the back of the car with Miss Jones.
“In the boot!” she snapped, rather than the thank-you I thought I deserved. I ignored her, I just leaped into the driving seat and got going, but even then I hardly got any wheel spin, not that I didn’t leave a pair of tyre tracks all the way across the gravelled forecourt and nearly all the way to the tarmac drive.
The chances of getting to the office by nine were absolutely zero but it was fun trying, it certainly shut Cassie up, especially when I unexpectedly caught a Nissan Micra, doing 35 just round a slight curve which I took at 90, I’m sure she shut her eyes but the grass verge was wide and I just slid down the inside on the grass like I knew what I was doing, whew.
The M1 is just impossible, but we were late so the traffic was even heavier than usual but there she was half asleep looking for all the world like last evenings whore on her way home to sleep the day away not the Director of European sales for a major international company.
It was a split second decision but the inside lane was moving fastest so I eased the big black Chrysler across and suddenly the slip to the services was right there and I thought she could maybe get changed.
I parked in a disabled bay right by the door, grabbed her in one hand and her case in the other and bustled her into the Ladies, and on into a disabled loo to the consternation of the ladies there.
“Henderson!” she protested as I grabbed the zipper on her dress, it snagged, I pulled and the dress tore all the way down the back, her panties and bra didn’t match and they had to be yesterdays so I hauled them off her as well, she stood there in just her hold up stockings and heels.
“No!” she wailed misconstruing my intentions, “Rape!” Any other time I might have noticed how fit she looked, but I was used to her flat tummy and her shapely breasts from seeing her in a swimsuit but her waxed pubes were a surprise, I somehow expected a blonde beaver.
I found clean black panties and bra in her case, “Rape!” she tried again, as if asking me to, but I was too busy to care.
“Hands!” I ordered and she put her hands through her bra straps, “Pants!” I threw them at her and then her shirt and the skirt and jacket of her suit, “Handkerchief, Pen.” I ordered, “Right go!”
I guess it took maybe two minutes and then we were out and away, I saw security and the manager hot footing it towards the loo as we left so it was a very close run thing.
“My God!” she gasped, “What the hell are you on?”
The parking warden was wandering across, but he was too slow, we were gone, down the on ramp at 70 and then bullying my way into the 30mph crawl towards the south.
“Henderson!” she gasped.
“For gods sake do your makeup properly you look like a strip-o-gram.” I suggested, “And I’m Steve Phillips remember, Henderson is the black guy, mid sixties, grey hair?”
“You tore my dress off!” she said, “My party dress!”
“I’ll buy you another,” I suggested.
“It was a thousand Euros from Paris!” she complained.
“From a charity shop!” I corrected myself as I worked furiously to weave through traffic trying to get to the office as quickly as possible, “You better leave your laptop so I can wipe the hard drive.” I suggested.
“Oh, yes, password is m0r0n1c, two noughts and figure one, I think of you which reminds me.” she said in a surprising admission that she realised she existed.
“The mini bar’s empty!” she complained.
“In the boot,” I explained, “You need a clear head Madam.”
Somehow we were only twenty minutes late when she swept into the main entrance, at least as she emerged she looked like a twenty seven year old executive not a thirty seven year old hooker so it wasn’t too bad but enough to get a “Please explain request,” from Ted Norman, my “Boss.”
I had to park up and go to his office, but I cleaned her laptop up first, it was a damned good job I did, half of it was illegal, the girl with the telephone pole inside her was the least of it, and it was all saved, bondage, whipping, hogties, it seemed his Lordship actually had a subscription to Hogties although I couldn’t imagine Cassandra hogtied, well I could imagine it but I couldn’t imagine her letting anyone do it to her.
I used my thumb drive with a cleaner program but I copied the last few documents in case something went wrong, and then I identified the porn and deleted it, then I cleared the memory, cookies, everything and overwrote it on the hard drive as well. I would have downloaded a whole lot of rubbish to cover it but the office wi-fi wouldn’t let me access the Aviation Weekly web-site so I just left it clean.
I took the Laptop to Cassandra’s assistant, Miss Davis. “What the hell happened?” she asked, “The old man nearly had a fit!”
“It’s a long story,” I explained non commitally.
The same thing didn’t work on Ted Norman. “What the hell happened?” he asked.
“She was late!” I told him.
“Not according to her, you weren’t there until Seven fifteen and then you drove like a lunatic.” he said, “And then there’s the Services, parking in a disabled space and use of the Ladies rest room.”
“Right!” I agreed.
“And his Lordship has stated categorically that you are banned from his property,” he continued, “You walked in on his wife in her nightdress apparently?”
“No, no nightdress,” I confirmed, “Nothing at all.”
“So what happened?” he asked.
“She staggered out about seven, in yesterdays party dress, I had to find her cases.”
“And the Services?” he asked.
“Sort of a quick change, otherwise no comment.” agreed.
“Right, well you better hang around because the old man wants you sacked.” he insisted.
Usually I did the pick up, then went home for the morning and then I came back either after lunch and took her on either a Gym run, or Tennis or something else equally important or else merely took her home, or where ever she needed to go.
Home was a near derelict terraced house between a fish and chip shop and a bookies, barely a mile and a half from the offices it had three bedrooms, a big garage accessed from a back alley and a sizeable cellar which I had to spend a fortune getting underpinned, and most days I had from nine thirty until one or quite often five or six to work on it between duties, and so far I had the floors and roof sorted but beyond that it was a building site with a microwave, a TV and a bed.
I had nothing to do so I used the computer in Ted’s office to check my Thumb drive, I idly read her notes for the meeting, £30k per unit, dropping to £28k for 25 and £25k each for 100 units. although what a unit was I had no idea.
Ted came back in, “You got three days suspension,” he said, “Start back Friday 9 a.m. here, it’s the best I can do.”
“Fine!” I agreed. and I turned to leave.
“You got to drop her at the Hyperion when she finishes this evening.” he said, “And take her home after so you need to hang around, sorry.”
She finished at three forty five, she was livid, all clenched fists and wound up like a clock spring as I drew up outside reception. She threw her laptop in the car and slumped furiously in the seat, “It’s your fault!” she said, “You made me dress like my grandma.”
“Right, I got a three day suspension because of you,” I added.
“Bastards wouldn’t budge,” she said, “Two point six five, they offered, against two point seven five.” she said, “I couldn’t do anything, I could have leaned forward or un-crossed my legs,” she said crudely.”
“Either that or read your notes, break even was two point five.” I said.
“No way!” she squealed, but she scrabbled around with her laptop, “Oh fucking hell,” she admitted, “Turn round,” I was ahead of her, we were nearly back at the office already.
She forgot to thank me, as you would expect so I dropped her at the Hyperion, carried her cases and waited for her to change and then returned around eleven to take her home to Northamptonshire.
She was back in crack whore mode when I picked her up, and sure enough she was with little lord snooty as I had come to think of the Baxter boy as although at thirty two he was older than me by a year or so.
We dropped him at the Hall ignoring my ban from the premises and them I took her home which surprised me as I expected her to spend the night with the “boy,” and then I dropped the car off back at the office and walked home to start my suspension.
I really got stuck in and got some work done on the house during that three day suspension, I soundproofed the cellar, did the lighting and collected my amps and drum kit from storage and then on Friday I took her from the office to a party and finally just before four a.m I took her home.
She was wrecked, I couldn’t take her to her parents place like that, lord knows what she was on, she was barely conscious, her replacement yellow dress all messed up, her shoes were on the wrong feet, and she vomited all over the sidewalk just before she climbed in.
I took her home, but to my home to sleep it off.
She only realised what was happening, as I drove into the back alley and swung into my garage, “Hey,” she protested.
“I can’t take you home like this,” I insisted, “Sleep it off ok?”
She staggered as she got out of the car but when she saw the state of the house she started struggling, I didn’t need the hassle so I put my hand over her mouth and frog-marched her inside.
That’s when she started protesting, struggling, trying to bite my fingers, so I adopted plan B as they say and bundled her down the steps to the cellar and slammed the door behind me.
“No,” she wailed as soon as I removed my hand from her mouth, “You’re mad!”
I hadn’t planned to use the cellar as a prison, there was only a bolt on the inside, no lock or anything, so as soon a I released her she tried to escape.
“Oh no you don’t,” I ordered. and I grabbed her round the waist, she absolutely reeked of stale beer and cigarette smoke, but she was warm and there was hardly an ounce of flab on her and she was here and.
I put those thoughts firmly to the back of my mind, I just wanted her to sleep it off, I had the curtains and carpets for the bedrooms in the cellar, it took barely a moment to undo the string around the carpet, and then I dragged her to a corner and used the string to tie her hands behind her, and then to stop her stepping through her hands and getting them in front of her, I tied her elbows together as well.
I rolled out the carpet and unwrapped the curtains to form a makeshift bed, and then I told her, “Sleep it off ok?” and I left her to it while I went upstairs where I jammed a kitchen chair under the cellar door door-handle before I showered and headed for bed in my one half completed bedroom.
I checked on her around 7 a.m, she looked just like a crack whore so I took an old vivid orange lipstick I had been using as a marker from my bag and wrote SLUT in big letters right across her forehead and then I eased her dress up around her waist and wrote CUNT and £ 2 across her tummy.
I woke next morning with the sun streaming through a gap in the curtains “Damn!” it was nearly noon, I rushed downstairs, down into the cellar, she was in a bad way, I guess I should have realised, all that wine had to go somewhere and that was my curtains ruined, “You need a shower!” I exclaimed.
“Bastard!” she sobbed, “You won’t get away with this.”
It was much easier to cut her ruined panties off than touch them, so I used the funny little hook blade in my Stanley knife that I never know what to do with to cut down the sides and pull it away, her stockings were soiled as well as her panties and so I dragged them off, and her shoes, and then she looked really silly, and rather pathetic so I fetched my camera-phone and snapped away, just in case she got awkward.
“Oh no no way!” she said, “Not that no,” she complained as she realised she couldn’t pull her dress down enough to hide her pubes.
“If you shut up I’ll let you shower,” I promised, but she wouldn’t, she couldn’t believe I just wanted her to sober up and get cleaned up.
“Ok, if you won’t shut up I’ll shut you up, I suggested and remembering the ball gag from her bondage video I turned and left her and went upstairs.
It was a nice afternoon so I took a few screws and screwed the cellar door firmly shut and then I grabbed my backpack and walked to the Underground station and got a train to Piccadilly Circus. It didn’t take long to find what I wanted, a ball gag in a shop window.
Once inside I found they had manacles for the wrists or ankles, soft ropes in various colours, dog collars, play handcuffs, whips even, all sorts and before I knew I had spent nearly three hundred pounds on her.
I stopped off on the way back and bought her some very cheap and tacky underwear, and a cheap yellow latex dress, and then, after a leisurely pie and a pint in a Soho pub, I walked home.
She was really angry when I returned, she looked shocked when I unloaded my back pack and especially shocked when I slapped the whip against my hand. but she agreed the play handcuffs and the ball gag were better than no shower and being tied up, so she obligingly opened her mouth wide for me to pop the ball in her mouth and fasten the strap around the back of her head.
She let me put handcuffs on her and I untied the cords and on an impulse I strapped dog collar around her neck.
She stared, shocked almost, as if it was somehow symbolic, it was supposed to be a joke, but didn’t seem at all funny, I had the leash as well and she stood passively as I attached it, and then to my surprise, she followed meekly as I led her upstairs.
I had a shower cubicle and bath in the unfinished bathroom so I took her in there. I untied her arms. I set the shower temperature and pushed her into the shower. The water cascaded through her golden hair and the fight just ebbed from her, I was getting wet so I set the shower head in its bracket and stripped to my boxers, that was the only reason, just to stop my clothes getting wet, honest.
“Maybe you should have taken the dress off first,” I explained as she got wetter and wetter, and finally she started to pull the soaking wet dress over her head.
I took my face cloth and some soap and started to wash her, starting at her neck,”Bra,” I suggested, and she undid the catch and let me slip that off as well. It was a shock when I saw her nipples react to my touch, I wondered what she was thinking and then I realised my own feelings were being betrayed as I looked down at the tent pole in my boxers.
It wasn’t right, I decided even when she allowed me to wash her most private parts, I eased the face cloth inside her pussy lips and I’m sure she moaned, and then on down to her feet, and then she turned and I washed her back, then using some cheap shampoo she would never have used in a million years I washed her hair.
“Drink?” she asked, I realised she had nothing to drink since we arrived.
I asked her, “Do you want a drink?” she paused then nodded, I gave her a glass of water, I realised the remains of the lipstick was still visible across her face as she saw her reflection in the shower screen and gasped.
“What have you done!” she gasped.
“Oh, you should see the photographs,” I joked, “Worth thousands!” She seemed to shrink inwardly at that.
“I wrote across your tummy as well,” I said, “Cunt two pounds”
“No!” she protested.
“I did, I have the photos.” I insisted.
“Oh,” she said quietly, and then she just sat quietly as I dried her off.
It took ages to dry her, it was a mistake to get her hair wet but with her sitting on the bath and me combing and using my old hair dryer I got it done, eventually. Afterwards I took her back to the cellar and then I went the bare living room and ordered some Pizzas before I took a bottle of coke and some plastic cups down and un-buckled her gag.
“You won’t mark my face will you?” she asked, “Please you can do anything but don’t mark my face.” she said as I poured her a cup of coke.
“Right,” I agreed, as she gulped the entire contents in one go, “I’ll just redo the Lipstick then, hold still.” I went to re-draw the legend Slut across her face but I decided to write fuck across her forehead and sl one side of her nose and ut the other side. Fuckslut, and then I drew it across her lips leaving her looking ridiculously cheap and trashy.
She peered around the cellar, new concrete floor freshly pointed and cleaned brickwork, thick soundproofing, it must have looked like I had planned it and with the drum kit still in bits and mostly in cardboard boxes it really must have looked pretty sinister.
“Is it for a ransom?” she said, “Because you won’t get away with it.” she said, “I know you, I can give the police your description.”
I picked up the whip slapped it against my hand and grinned.
“Oh god I’m never going to escape am I?” she decided, “You built this specially didn’t you?” she was really scared now, “You’ll torture me, play the recordings to my parents and,” she paused “Please don’t mark my face,” she said, “Not permanently.”
“Anything else?” I asked as I rather enjoyed the moment and wrote Cunt £2 across her tummy again and L on her left breast and R on her right breast.
“Are you going to tie me up?” she asked.
“Right,” I agreed. “I think that was the door bell.” I gagged her again and re-fastened the handcuffs, and went upstairs, “Ok coming,” I added as I threw on an old coat and paid for the Pizzas.
“Food,” I announced, and I released her gag again, “You must be hungry,” I indicated the Pizza and unfastened the handcuffs, “Coke?” she looked at me quizzically, “I mean more cola.” I said and she smiled.
She stretched and took the cup of Cola, and sipped from it, then she simply threw it in my face and ran, she nearly made it to the steps but I caught her round the waist, she squealed almost delightedly as I held her, “Yuck!” I exclaimed, “I’ll get you some more.” and I set her down, “Now eat something.”
She glowered and glared at me, “Were you really going to run away stark naked?” I asked.
She had no answer,
“I think you need to be tied up,” I said, “Finish your Pizza, how’s the Baxter boy?” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t know.” she said, “Who calls Robert the Baxter boy?” she asked.
“Me mainly,” I said.
“Look, I’m not his girlfriend or anything, they won’t pay a ransom.” she insisted, “Daddy might.” she said.
“Right,” I agreed, “Eat up, I want to watch TV.”
I laid out the cords, “I suppose you do this with Robert?” I asked.
She blushed crimson, “Hardly!” she exclaimed.
“Only if you’re very good I’ll get you some strawberry cheesecake.” I asked as she finished the Pizza.
“What do you mean, good?” she asked.
“If you’re a good girl, taking your punishment like a good girl, six of the best for forgetting your case, six for lying and getting me into trouble, shall we say twenty four,” I suggested, “Getting drunk?”
“Are you going to rape me?” she asked.
“Hardly, I’ll pay the two pounds like anybody else,” I promised, “Or do you mean instead of a whipping.” I suggested.
“Oh,” She gasped, “Oh please, don’t hurt me,”
“I saw the video,” I said.
“That was Robert’s idea,” she said, “I was drunk all right?”
“Oh, different video,” I said “Sorry.” I countered, “Its about forty eight whacks I make it.”
“You said you would have sex with me instead.” she offered.
“Miss Jones I can have sex with you as well, I’m afraid,” I informed her, “Your bargaining position is tenuous to say the least.”
She finished the Pizza, “Hands on ankles,” I suggested, “I saw it on Roberts video.” I grinned.
She did as I asked and I began to wind the red cord her left wrist and ankle. it was strong yet elastic and designed to leave no marks, I tied it off and started on the right wrist, she just sat passively and let me do it, and then I tied cords from just below the knee to just above he elbow and it was only when I laid a curtain behind her and gently pushed her onto her back that she realised how exposed and vulnerable she was.
“Oh dear god no!” she wailed, “Not my bottom please, oh please don’t, Robert tried, I don’t do anal.”
“Would you rather I used your pussy instead?” I asked.
“Please,” she said, “You wont mark my face or cut my ears off will you.”
“Not if you take your punishment like a good girl and fuck nicely,” I told her, “I think I better give six of the best for now don’t you?”
Her eyes followed me as I picked up the whip, it was awkward in the confined space with the ceiling barely six foot six high but three swats from the left and three from the right reddened her rump nicely, and then I announced I was going to watch TV for a while and wash the coke from me hair.
I came back an hour later, she was watching helplessly, “I brought you the cheesecake, I said you could have some if you were good, and you were very good earlier so I brought some.”
“You said.” she said, “If I fucked nicely.”
“If you promise you’ll try to fuck me nicely then you can have the cheesecake first, what do you say?” I asked.
“Not my bum?” she asked, “Just ordinary?”
“Very straight,” I said, and I sliced the cheesecake with a knife and fed it to her with a spoon.
“Mmm,” she said licking her lips, “Ok, but no Anal, agreed?”
“Not today anyway,” I agreed.
“Do you want to get it over with?” she asked nervously as I set the plate down.
“I suppose we should,” I agreed, and my erection resumed it’s tent poling as soon as she said it, so I hauled my boxers down.
“Oh my it’s too big!” she gasped, “Robert’s is nothing like as.”
“And what about all the others?” I asked, “The ones you don’t remember.”
“That’s not fair!” she complained, as she tried to look coy, with her pussy pouting at me.
“It would appear that you turn me on,” I explained, and I put the plate aside and moved towards her, she could do absolutely nothing to stop me, but her latent self preservation instinct had betrayed her and moisture glistened between her pussy lips. I rested the very tip of my tool against her pink softness and she opened like an exotic flower and welcomed me in the crudest most primeval and most delightful way possible.
“Nnng,” she exclaimed as she tried to stifle her moans, but then I was floating on her moistness in a sea of ecstasy, I expected reluctance not need and swiftly the floating turned to something profoundly different as she gripped me with willing muscles.
She stared at me with a mixture of fear and surprise, I think the gentleness of our initial mating had caught her by surprise as much as it surprised me, and she struggled to suppress her emotions.
“You absolute bastard,” she moaned and did her best to squeeze me with her bound legs which just rubbed my rib cage and then in a completely unprofessional manner I tucked into her neck kissing and love biting as she was helpless to resist me.
She only realised I wasn’t using anything when I started to cum, “Pull out. pull out!” she wailed as I started pumping but it was too late, and I was in an alpine meadow, flying my spitfire, soaring like an eagle and generally wallowing in the ecstacy of orgasm before I had the presence of mind to answer her.
“You sound like an old war film.” I said.
“You spunked in me you beast,” she said, “Yuck.”
“Oh, get used to it.” I ordered as I went to get my camera phone
“You made me cum.” she said, as I walked round behind her, “Bastard, Robert only makes me cum when I’m high.”
She stared helplessly, “Will you untie me now?” she asked, as my spunk gently oozed from her.
“No,” I said, as I clicked away, “You promised you would be a good girl,” I reached down and added some scarlet highlights to her sex with the lipstick.
“But I have been!” she protested.
“No, you stifled you feelings, you have to express your delight, now I have to whip you again, do you understand?” I asked making it up as I went along.
“No, I need the bathroom.” she protested, I found her a bowl, she did what she needed to and then I screwed a hook in between some of the nails holding my cellar ceiling to the lounge floor joists passed a rope around it and back down to her looping it under her breasts inside her tied arms and hauled her to her feet. She gasped.
“No, oh no not more!” I slapped her a couple of times with the whip but it was very awkward for her so I sat her down and untied the ropes and let her rest.
“Shall I leave you untied?” I asked, “For now?”
“Please!” she replied.
“Then hold your titties out so I can get at them ,” I suggested, “Cup them.” She obeyed instantly and her breasts looked so inviting, and her nipples such lovely targets and she gasped so divinely when I swatted them I started to get good at it, “Left nipple, Right nipple,” I quoted, and then like a darts played going down for a treble 19 I said “Clit,” and swatted her, swatting downwards against the nipples which responded by turning dark and hardening and upwards against her clit or her labia.
“Hold them or I’ll tie you again.” I insisted.
“No Henderson,” she wailed, “Please?” and she stared right at me pleadingly, her need was unmistakeable, so I set the whip down and took her in my arms and gently eased my thumb inside her and pressed my fingers on her clit to excite her, “Oh my lord.” she wailed as I strove to relieve her, and as I worked on her clit so her hands slipped from her breasts and her arms slipped around me and held me tightly.
Her breath was coming in little gasps and then she was trying not to cry out but not really succeeding and then she just let out a despairing cry and went limp and collapsed into my arms.
She looked so exhausted that I let her lie down and then I found her some dry carpet and curtains for a bed and tucked her in for the night,
I felt strangely elated as I went up to my own bed, chuckling at the thoughts of seeing her naked and with glorious memories of her body and an immense feeling of guilt that I had perhaps taken her against her will while I wondered if I had got swept up in something I hadn’t intended.
I checked on her early next morning, she was still asleep but she came upstairs quickly enough with the prospect of the bathroom and bacon and eggs for breakfast, which she ate ravenously.
“So where were you going on Friday night, not home surely,” I asked.
“I sneak in,” she said.
“Aren’t you a bit old for that?” I asked.
“Twenty six isn’t old,” she insisted, “Anyway I often crash at friend’s houses.” It was all the info I needed.
I locked her in the cellar with a bolt and padlock I found in the garage and went to her parents to arrange a “Ransom!”
Her mother was an older version of Cassie and delightful and she was so apologetic when she found Cassie was too drunk to come home and had phoned on my day off to order me to pick up some clothes for her for Monday.
I returned solemn faced, “They won’t pay,” I lied, “I only want a Million,” and they want proof, I insisted.
I made her do a bit to her webcam in the frame of her laptop, her dress was dry so I made her wear it, but then decided the tacky cheap one looked more suitable because it showed her panties better, at least it would if I had let her wear any, oh and I touched up the fuck slut and changed the word cunt which was badly smeared for straight but still kept the price at £2, and touched up the L and R on her breasts as well.
“I’m fine Dad and Mom. he’s treated me really well but please pay the ransom.” she said convincingly and then we watched TV through the faltering Wi Fi feed and I started to make a cross to tie her to. It fixed to the wall, more X then cross
She watched carefully and when I was done she let me tie her wrists and ankles to the beams and then we tried it.
It was nearly perfect I stripped to my shorts to begin with and chanted, “left nipple right nipple clit and ass” as I swatted her breasts and up between her legs and down against her clit and when her eyes started to glaze I drove my tool deep inside her.
“Not my neck,” she wailed, “lips,” as I tried a love bite again and then suddenly she was wailing in ecstasy.
“That’s it let the emotion show,” I ordered.
“Ohhh Henderson!” she wailed.
“What’s my name.” I asked jokingly.
“Master!” she wailed, “Oh god, please Master fill me with your glorious spunk.”
I couldn’t refuse the lady could I? I didn’t want to anyway and with a rush I started shooting my load deep inside her.
“I love you Master,” she said before she realised what she was saying.
“It’s ok, it’s normal in a captive slave scenario,” I reassured her and held her close, “It’s quite normal.”
“What sex this good without being stoned, sorry I don’t think so!” she snapped, “And with a fucking driver, bollocks!”
“Charming,” I agreed, “I think my little slave need a reminder of whose collar she wears.”
I made her turn round, it was cumbersome and time consuming and the whole procedure needed changing but soon her back was revealed and I gave her about twenty strokes until her buttocks were pleasantly red and then as she seemed un aroused I found a piece of dowelling about thirty six inches long and three inch diameter and using a file and some sandpaper I rounded off one end and eased it into her pussy,it went a long way in and then I tied it midway between her ankles.
She resisted for ages and then finally began to hump it, faster and faster in a desperate bid to cum and yet a vain one until I slipped my hand between her legs and sought out her clit.
She came with animalistic grunts and wails, “You swine, you absolute swine,” she wailed, “I don’t want to cum you swine,” but it was no good, and she slumped down against her bonds in exhaustion which dove the dowelling deeper into her making her gasp once more.
I decided she needed to come upstairs again, so I found the fleece lined manacles and fixed then around her ankles with a short chain so she could only take tiny steps and not climb stairs and I carried her to the bathroom and then to the kitchen where I set her to make dinner.
She was a truly atrocious cook, but steak can survive most things and the packet roast potatoes were ok and the peas were standard canned peas so it was ok and we sat and watched Sunday TV for a while naked, on the sofa together, holding hands at one stage until bed time.
I found her a mattress and blankets, a pillow even and put her to bed.
The sun was high in the sky when I woke, the alarm hadn’t woken me, it was 8.30, I panicked and hurtled downstairs, grabbed her case from the car, and rushed to the cellar where I unfastened the manacles and insisted she dress, she pushed past, out-running me and rushed for the bathroom.
I grabbed my uniform and brought her case to the bedroom where she was desperately trying to shift the fuck-slut wording across her forehead so I doused her liberally with perfume, and then she slipped on a little black dress, “No business suit!” I shouted and I lunged for the cellar and packed away her laptop and charger.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“Work” I explained, “We’re late!”
“Are you mad?” she asked, as we met in the kitchen,
“I must be.” I agreed.
“Where’s your case?” I asked, she pointed so I sprinted upstairs grabbed it and came down to find her struggling with the door lock, “Car get in!” I ordered.”
“Handbag,, wheres my grip?” she asked
“In the car I guess?” I replied and she obeyed and I threw the case and laptop in the car after her and grabbing my hat I started the engine and we headed for the office as fast as I could.
“Where are we really going?” she demanded.
“Work,” I said again
“Work?” she exclaimed, “What about my ransom?”
“There was no ransom,” I looked in the mirror, she still had my dog collar on, “You better let me have that collar,” I suggested.
“Oh no,” she said, “Evidence,” and she took it off and put it in her handbag.
We arrived at 8.58.
“Four thirty driver,” she said as she climbed out, I didn’t have the heart to tell her her skirt was caught up in her knickers so I drove slowly away.
I cleared all the evidence that morning and when the police didn’t come I collected her at four thirty, “Home!” she ordered, and before we went half a mile she ordered “Left hand lane, take a left here,”
“Where to Madam,” I asked.
“Home, surely you know the way home.” she said.
“Ok” I agreed.
“Well lets go in!” she suggested when we arrived at my house, I expected the police to be there but it was as I left it, “Look five to five,” she commented ,” You can knock off at five but first,” she said, “I need to see if you can make me cum without a whip.”
“And if not?” I asked.
“Then you’ll have to use the whip,” she said as she slipped her skirt and panties off and laid them on a kitchen chair and then hopped up on the kitchen unit.
I didn’t need a second order, my pants and boxers were off like a shot, and I dove my tool deep into her hot wet box, and as I did so she reached for her hand bag ad pulled out the collar, “Slip it back around my neck if you want me,” she said quietly.
“Of course I do,” I told her as I fastened the collar.
“Good,” she confirmed, and then she started grinning, “I think we can manage,” she kissed me, “Very well,” another kiss, “Without the whip,” and then she pushed me away, “Where’s your bed?” she said as she slipped her jacket and blouse off and released her bra to reveal the word fuckslut across her tummy, I stared.
“It smeared, I had to re do it,” she explained, “But bed man bed,” she ordered, as she pranced around discarding her stockings and shoes “I need cock!”
I showed her the bedroom, the bed was a mess but she piled in and dragged me after her, “Oh yes, that’s good, oh that’s really good.” she exclaimed as I slipped deep inside her and then she just moaned softly until the fires burned and she wailed in ecstasy.
We lay together, “Did you really mean to demand a ransom?” she asked.
“To be honest I wanted you to sleep it off before you went home.”
“But Steve, it was so exciting,” she said, “I have never felt so good without being stoned,” she said, “Honest.”
“It was fun, but I soundproofed the cellar as a practice room or studio,” I explained, “Not to keep anyone prisoner.”
“May be we can use it as a play room?” she suggested.
“We?” I asked.
“Ah, I took some pictures myself for insurance,” she said, “And this is really convenient for work, and I felt so good this morning, Steve you wouldn’t believe how good it felt,” she paused briefly and then she continued, “I think you have got yourself a lodger Mr Phillips!”
“Oh you remembered my name at last?” I queried.
“Nothing serious, just a bit of fun,” she said, “Ok?”
“Well if that is all that is on offer.” I agreed, “But remember I’m master in my house,” I insisted.
“Yes, what ever,” she agreed, “Now how about that fun?”
Re posted due to problems editing.. Was “Cassie”
