The Velvet Collar

by C. P. Mandara

  Banging the alarm down with my fingertips, I winced as daylight streamed into the room. As I clearly remembered drawing the blinds last night, there was something wrong. Snapping my eyes open, it was to find my gorgeous wife at the foot of our bed, dressed in something black and incredible, with high heels to boot.

  "What are you doing?" I said groggily, rubbing my eyes to make sure the siren in front of me was not an apparition.

  "Coming with you to work. You said I could. Now get up sleepy head. There's coffee and breakfast already on the table for you." When my eyes could just about focus, they got to witness a very delectable ass, tightly encased in black satin, happily wiggling its way out of my bedroom. It sashayed in just the right places, and if it was coming to work with me, it was going to keep me preoccupied all day. Jesus Christ. What had I done?

  Getting up and showered in record time, I quickly donned my suit and tie and gathered up my laptop. Wondering if there was any way I could wriggle out of my earlier invitation, it didn't take a genius to realise that not only was I up the proverbial creek without a paddle, but the boat had a bloody big hole in it, too. If I told her she couldn't come, she'd suspect me of lying yesterday. Then we'd be back to square one, and the dreaded 'D' word would be flying about. It would be much easier to take her to work and bore her senseless. Yes, she'd distract the hell out of me for a day or two, but everything could go back to normal after that.

  Taking the stairs two at a time towards the kitchen, I wondered what my wife had managed to burn this morning. I couldn't smell anything awful, but that didn't mean I was out of the woods yet. Making a mental note of where the fire extinguishers were stashed, I sauntered into the kitchen and prepared to smile at whatever monstrosity she presented to me. Whenever she decided to cook, I always took my life into my own hands as I did my best to eat it, and she'd given me no reason to suspect that today would be any different. Looking down at the latest offering with suspicion, I noted that once again it had not been burnt. Oh, happy days.

  "Scrambled eggs on toast?" I looked up towards Jen for affirmation. It was never a good idea to be too confident around these parts.

  "Well, of course it is, silly. Now eat up." She waved a spatula at me, indicating I had better get a move on, and that earned her fifty spanks immediately, although I'd tell her about it later.

  Cutting a small square off the edge of the toast and chewing it carefully, there was no question that Jennifer had finally learnt the art of toasting bread. At least that was one breakfast I could suggest if this one went pear-shaped. Now for the part I was most concerned about - the eggs. Last time it had been a bit like eating a mouthful of sand and gravel, as she'd left half the egg shell in there, and I wasn't overly excited about dicing with death a second time. It was probably only luck that she'd managed to cook the eggs through last time, too.

  As Jen was looking at me expectantly, I nervously cut off a small square of both toast and egg and brought it to my lips. Making a mental note to get my staff back in here soon, I took the plunge and began chewing. The trouble was, you couldn't walk around naked when there were people all over the place. It was also difficult explaining why your wife was tied up all over the house. Then there'd be the inevitable stumble upon a sex toy I'd placed in the dishwasher for cleaning, and all hell would break loose. Having thoroughly enjoyed the house to ourselves for the past year, bar a gardener and bi-weekly cleaning on Tuesday and Friday evenings when we made sure to behave ourselves, I was loath to go back to having a full staff. Privacy was a wonderful thing.

  "Well?" Jen looked at me, smiling proudly, as well she might. There wasn't a crunchy mouthful in sight, and the lack of anything blackened and burnt was a pleasant surprise.

  "It's really good," I said with more confidence than I felt. Just because I had taken one mouthful without obvious risk to my health didn't mean I would get through two.

  "Well, hurry up darling. We don't want to be late." There was that "we" again. Today had disaster written all over it, and I'd practically invited the beast along. It was time to face the music. Cutting off a large square of egg and toast, I shovelled the thing into my mouth and was surprised to find no ill effects from doing so. Trying another and another, I began to build up some enthusiasm for the meal. When I'd finished, I was rather impressed. It was hardly haute cuisine, but it wasn't a bad effort. The best my wife had made to date, in any case.

  "That was lovely darling. Your cooking skills are coming along wonderfully." In my opinion that was a bit overly optimistic, but as I had to work with Jen all day, it made sense not to put her in a bad mood before we'd even got out of the door.

  "I know," she said. "I've been Googling. You'd be amazed at what you can learn on some of these cooking sites." Oh, good God, was I going to be subjected to more of this on a regular basis? Making a mental note to make sure my wife was tied to the bedpost tomorrow morning, we quickly cleared the kitchen up and made our way out to the car.

  When I put Mozart on, shortly after I started the engine, that was code for I want a quiet and peaceful drive to work. Unfortunately, Jennifer had no understanding of such a code and just talked over it. She seemed to want to learn all the inner workings of Zystrom, which was sweet but entirely unnecessary, as she wouldn't last longer than a week. I'd make sure of that.

  "Darling, can you fetch me a cup of coffee?" I was nestled in my office, a safe haven from all outside distractions, and ready to get to work. Although I was perfectly capable of getting my own coffee I hadn't done so for decades, and knowing the request would annoy Jen made it all the sweeter.

  "If you think I'm here to..." She rounded on me, exactly as I'd thought she would, and there was thunder and lightning flashing in those bright blue eyes of hers. All I wanted to do was bend her over the desk and fuck the living daylights out of her, but there was a good chance she'd like that, and I didn't want to make today a pleasurable experience.

  "Uh-uh-uh," I said, wagging my finger at her. "If you want your night of femdom you have to play the game, young lady. Are you obeying my every order or being difficult?" Throwing her hands up in the air and turning around abruptly on the point of a stiletto, it was clear I had won this round as she flounced from the office - actually, maybe not. Salivating over her retreating ass, I wondered if I'd be able to keep my hands off her until lunchtime, let alone the rest of the day. What the hell was wrong with me? Once upon a time I ruled everything I touched, and now I had been reduced to a dribbling mess. Damn it. What the hell had happened to my hormones in the past year?

  When the coffee arrived it came just how I like it, which was basically a double espresso shot of the strongest variety available with a cup and saucer. Mugs are inelegant, and I refuse to tolerate them. "Thank you, darling. If you see Cynthia, she'll find you something simple to do. That way you can ease yourself in gently and find your niche." That was all lies of course. I'd instructed Cynthia to give her a heap of filing which should have her cross-eyed in no time at all. She'd be begging me to take her home in an hour or two.

  "Oh, by the way, what should I call you when we're at work? Mark sounds too informal, and Mr Matthews just sounds wrong, although if you want me to use it, I will." Jen hovered by the door, her hand tightly grasped around the handle to make ready her escape.

  "My lord and master will do fine," I said, without cracking a smile. I was mightily proud of myself. If that didn't irk her, nothing would.

  "You are very funny," she said sarcastically, although she managed to control the eye-rolling thing. The girl was learning.

  "And you can obey or not; doesn't make any difference to me."

  There was still no eye rolling as Jen said, "Yes, my lord and master. Anything that amuses you amuses me, my lord and master. Oh, until this week is up, that is. Then everything is going to amuse me, my lord and master."

  I ignored that comment. "Oh and darling, can you ring up Starbucks and get them to deliver a tuna melt Panini and latte for my lunch? I'm going to work right through today. Cy
nthia has the number."

  "As you wish." She then retreated without a murmur, which made me instantly suspicious. What was my wife playing at? And that "As you wish" comment was strangely familiar. I'd seen it in a film somewhere, I was sure. Racking my brains for the better part of ten minutes, I finally Googled it. The Princess Bride. I vaguely remembered it. There was definitely some significance behind those words, but I was damned if I could remember it. About to waste valuable office time by doing yet more Googling, the telephone rang. Thank God for that.

  Twenty minutes later, Cynthia came in with a great big smile on her face. That in itself was unusual, and I couldn't help but wonder what had put it there. Were my wife's dreadful antics that entertaining? It was time to find out.

  "Why Cynthia, you look radiant. What has put you in such a good mood?" Cynthia's grey hair was artfully styled into a chic bob today, and she wore a string of large pearls around her neck. Her black jacket was tailored to taper gently at her waist, and her skirt was perfectly matched. In all the years I had known her she never had a hair out of place, and today was no different.

  "Actually, it's your wife. She's an absolute gem around the office. Why did you not bring her in before? Did you know she can speak several languages fluently - and one of them includes Mandarin? She took over the call to Wang Li, who's curious about our new cell phone, and the pair rattled on for about ten minutes before she put down the phone and said he'd like to order two hundred thousand of them when they come online. That's two weeks of my life going back and forth among a translator she's just saved me - and she sold the package to boot. The woman's a genius!"

  A stream of explicit cuss words exploded in my head. Extricating Jen out of this office was going to be harder than I thought if I wasn't careful.

  "How did she know any of the specifics of the Strontium X?" I admit I was at a complete loss at this point. How did my wife manage to sell something she had virtually no knowledge of?

  "I can assure you she did. When they began the call, it was in English. They were talking tech right from the start. Hadn't you briefed her on it beforehand?" Cynthia looked confused, as well she might. I hadn't briefed my wife on anything. Either the woman was going through my briefcase, or she'd managed to hack into my computer. It was one or the other.

  "I must have, but for the life of me I can't remember doing so." I smiled. "So you're pleased with her so far?" Say no woman. Please say no.

  "Yes. She's a dream. Everything you tell her to do gets done in record time, and she can type like the wind. She managed to whizz up your dictaphone tapes in seconds, and every single one is completely error-free. If only we had more office staff like her. We desperately need to employ some more people, Mark. When are you going to start hiring?"

  "Soon," I said, but I didn't want to think about that right now. I wanted to find out if my wife had been snooping and I wanted her ass over my desk for two reasons. The first was because she always deserves a good spanking, and the second was that I couldn't resist her any longer. If I couldn't thrust myself inside Jennifer in the next thirty seconds I was going to go crazy, and I didn't see why I should deny both of us exactly what we wanted.

  Nodding, Cynthia left a pile of papers on my desk for me to sign and went back to her office. Leaving her just enough time to get inside and close the door, I then went in search of my wife.

  Typically the woman was nowhere to be found. I'd employed her for less than a day, and already she was bored witless. Maybe Cynthia's praise had been exaggerated. My second-in-command was hardly going to say something horrible about my wife, was she? Expecting to find her in the kitchen playing on her cell or painting her nails, I was somewhat surprised to find that room empty, too. That only left the ladies, so I waited patiently outside for five minutes before I stormed in and told her to hurry up. That might have worked if there was someone in one of the cubicles, but it was completely empty. Where the hell was she?

  Marching into Cynthia's office, I asked her if she had seen Jen.

  "Ah, no dear. She's just nipped out to Starbucks for your lunch. There seems to be a problem with the phone line at the moment, we can't dial out for some reason, so I asked her if she wouldn't mind walking over there instead." Cynthia saw my face lose all its colour and said, "That is okay, isn't it?"

  I'd forgotten that Cynthia wasn't up to speed on current events.

  "She's not supposed to go anywhere without a security detail. We've had death threats." It was easier and quicker than explaining the whole sorry story. "You didn't know, don't worry. Which Starbuck's did she go to?"

  Cynthia gave me the address, and I ran all the way there in less than three minutes. My lungs were screaming by the time I'd arrived, and I got a few odd stares, but I didn't give a flying fuck. My eyes were desperately searching around the café to see if Jen was still there, and having scanned the room from top to bottom three times, I could pretty much safely say that she wasn't.

  Pushing my way to the front of the till, angering nearly every single customer in the line, I caught the attention of an extremely frazzled barista and explained that I was searching for someone. I gave a brief description of my wife, and what she might have ordered and waited to see if anyone could remember serving her.

  Most of the staff shook their heads, but one gentleman then piped up that he had served her, describing her perfectly. When I asked him how long ago she'd been in, he said no more than five minutes. So why the hell hadn't I seen her? Had she decided to go shopping on her way back? It was unlikely. She had a large cup of coffee in her hand and a bag of sandwiches to lug about. Thanking the man I dashed out of the store, canvassed the area for ten minutes, and when she didn't materialise, I headed back to the office.

  "Any sign?" I asked when I could breathe again. Cynthia was waiting for me, and shook her head.

  "No, none. The phones are now working again, though. How odd."

  I didn't like the sound of that at all. Something here was very wrong. Thinking quickly, my stomach took a nosedive as my heartrate exploded. The bastard had her. I was sure of it. Now I just had to get her back before it was too late. Oh fuck, where did I start?

  With a feeling of dread slowly washing down my entire body, I said, "Cynthia, get the police on the line."

  Chapter Nineteen - Jennifer

  When Cynthia asked me to go out and get the Starbucks, I jumped at the chance. Although Fountaine Bleu is an incredible cage complete with beautifully manicured gardens, it's still a cage, and I was beginning to feel claustrophobic. I knew I would be in trouble once I got back if Mark found out, but I was going to try my best to make sure he didn't. As he'd sequestered himself tightly in his office all day so far, there was a good chance I'd get away with it.

  Besides, how was Kyle going to find me in the centre of London? As long as I made sure I wasn't being followed, I would be fine. Pulling the hood of my coat up tightly over my head, I marched off, delighting in the little scrap of forbidden freedom that had presented itself.

  Walking into the coffee shop, I smiled brightly and took in a good gulp of freshly roasted coffee bean air. God, I love that smell. Given half a chance, I could sit there all day. Unfortunately, I daren't stay for more than five minutes because if the alarm was somehow raised back at the office there would be all hell to pay, and after last night's session, it was going to hurt. Not that I minded too much, of course.

  Freedom wasn't the only reason I was running off into the great unknown, though. After Mark's incredibly irresponsible actions with my birth control pills, there was a very real possibility I could be pregnant. So I was going to hightail it over to the nearest pharmacy and get a morning after pill. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to take it because the idea of killing a baby is abhorrent to me, but I wanted to keep my options open. I would give myself twenty-four hours to consider what I should do, get the advice of a few good friends, and then talk to Mark. It was a decision I should never have had to make, and a part of me blamed my husband for putting me in this
position. Shaking my head, I swore at myself. We were both to blame. I could have said stop. We're both adults, and it takes two to tango.

  "What would you like?" The lad behind the great big chrome monstrosity that was pumping out clouds of steam and churning up frothy brown bubbles at an impressive rate of knots smiled at me.

  "Can I have a tuna melt and a latte to go, please?" I thrust out Mark's stainless steel travel mug, and it was whisked away from me.

  "Sure thing. Be a couple of minutes." The guy handed me a small receipt and moved on to the next in line.

  Shuffling to the ridiculously small table where all orders eventually appeared without being told, I did a bit of people watching. There were some students in the corner, judging from the workbooks all over the table, but they were doing more chatting than studying. It was early though, so I'd give them the benefit of the doubt. There were a couple of suits and briefcases, both sat alone on tables for two, and each looked as harassed as the other. I made a mental note never to get a briefcase. Then there was an Italian couple, obviously much in love, and animatedly talking to each other with large hand gestures. They could barely keep their hands off each other. It was adorable to watch. Lastly, sitting with their backs to the toilet, a couple of young mums sat side by side with their strollers next to each other. They looked tired and weary, and they clutched their coffee so tightly to their chest you'd have thought they were holding the crown jewels. It had obviously been a rough night. My eyes strayed to the babies who were curled up asleep in their makeshift beds. Both were little boys, and they looked adorable. One had tight blond curls, and the other had wispy tufts of dark brown fluff. Blondie had most of his fist stuffed inside his mouth and was happily sucking away at it in his sleep, while tufty had both hands up on either side of his head and was making adorable snuffling noises. My fingers suddenly had the itch to pick him up, and I wondered what the hell was happening to me. Geez. I must have been having an out of body experience or something. One day of work and my brain was already going to mush.