by Sarah Fisher
Maggie growled at him. Evidently bad news travels fast.
‘What’s all this about you and Simon Faraday, then?’ said one of the other freelancers as she queued up in the deli at the end of the street at lunchtime.
By the time Maggie was ready to leave work she was seething. Was there nobody Simon hadn’t told?
‘Goodnight, Ms Howard, have a good one,’ said the guy on the front desk as she crossed the reception area, and as she reached the glass doors he added, ‘It’s nice that you two have got together at long last. You’ll make a lovely couple.’
There was no missing the sarcasm in the security guard’s voice and Maggie swung round and glared at him, but he just grinned wryly.
So, it seemed that Simon had told every last soul that worked in the building, and Maggie was beside herself.
Supper was not a success.
‘And then I hit it straight down the fairway, nearly three hundred yards, sweet as a nut,’ Simon bragged, miming a golf swing.
Maggie looked at him over the rim of her wineglass. Over two hours with him and all she wanted to do was swing at the end of a rope. The ‘everyone’ Simon had said would be at the restaurant turned out to be a handful of minions and toadies from the accounting office. But at least one thing he was right about was the food, which was excellent, but by the time it was served she knew she had drunk too much to truly appreciate it. It had been a long and very dull evening.
She stifled a yawn, and when some little creep at the end of the bench said, ‘Looks like someone’s ready for bed,’ half the table sniggered.
Simon caught her eye, and Maggie smiled in what she hoped was a neutral sort of way, at which he drained his glass and said, ‘Well, it’s getting late and we’ve all got a drive home. Think we should make a move.’
Maggie was about to protest, but then realised that she really did want to get home, and much more time spent with Simon and any pretext of good manners would have gone. So she got her coat and slipped outside.
‘Someone’s keen,’ said the same creep as the rest followed her out into the car park.
As they reached Simon’s car he opened her door, but then any sense of gallantry was lost as he grabbed hold of her arms.
Maggie wriggled out of his grasp but even so he pressed his lips to hers in some revolting parody of a passionate kiss. ‘I’ve been wanting to do that all evening,’ he rasped. ‘God, you look bloody lovely. Good enough to eat.’ There was no missing the implication in his tone, and Maggie glared at him.
They drove home in complete silence, Maggie only too aware of the wine in her bloodstream. Bloody man. She might have accepted his dinner date but that gave him no right to maul her, did it? Or was she giving him mixed signals? Did he, like Guido, think she was offering a ride for a ride?’
When they got back to her house it was obvious that Simon expected to be invited inside. Maggie glanced up at the windows; Kay couldn’t be home yet, the lights were out in the sitting room and there were none on upstairs. Maybe she was staying over at Mike’s.
‘Simon,’ she began. It was important to nip this in the bud before it went any further, but he smiled at her and slid his arm across the back of her seat.
Maggie sighed. ‘Look, Simon, I’m really… really…’ she decided upon the truth, ‘I’m really pissed off that you told everyone at work that you were taking me out. That’s not the way to do it…’ He looked hurt and she felt a mixture of relief and contrition, but apparently undeterred he moved closer and this time she hadn’t the heart to push him away. He took this as an invitation.
‘Maggie, you’ve got no idea how long I’ve waited for this,’ he whispered, pulling her close and kissing her full on the mouth, his tongue hungrily seeking entry between her lips. As he pressed closer one hand crawled onto her knee and before she could stop him it eased clumsily up her thigh while the other settled on her breast.
He began to move his lips against hers, and for the briefest of moments Maggie tried to let herself sink into it, go with the flow, respond in kind, imagining what it might be like to have Simon as a lover, but every instinct in her body fought against it. She didn’t want it. She didn’t want him.
Encouraged by her apparent passivity Simon’s fingers tightened on her breast while the one between her legs tried desperately to find a way into her panties.
‘Open you legs,’ he murmured thickly. ‘Come on, baby, you know you want me.’
‘Simon, for God’s sake,’ she snapped, pressing against his chest. ‘Of course I don’t want you.’
‘Relax,’ he purred, still intent on seduction. ‘Let me do the driving.’
Maggie was so stunned she didn’t know what to say until his fingertips grazed the lips of her sex and his panting increased in volume. ‘Shit I’ve waited so long for this,’ he drawled. ‘You feel so good. Come on, open wider for me.’
‘For crying out loud,’ Maggie yelped, managing to wrestle free and scramble out of the car, ‘stop it, Simon.’
Totally bemused he clambered out after her. ‘What the hell’s the matter?’ he demanded. ‘I thought it was going really well. Do you want to go inside instead, so we can get a bit more comfortable? I can understand you not wanting to make out in a car.’ He looked at her intently, waiting for a reply, and then snapped angrily. ‘What? I thought you liked me.’
Maggie shook her head. ‘Simon, I need you to understand this,’ she said slowly, as though talking to an imbecile - which perhaps he was, she thought. ‘I don’t fancy you. I’ve never fancied you, and I never will fancy you. No, I never will, not at all. You’re not my type. I think of you as a friend.’ She could hardly tell him he made her flesh crawl.
For a few moments Simon looked taken aback by her words, and then he smiled. ‘Maggie, I understand what you’re going through, and I don’t want to rush you into anything you’re not ready for. I really like and respect you, and we can take it as slowly as you want.’
Maggie stared at him in astonishment. If only he knew, she thought. She shook her head. ‘No thanks, Simon,’ she said. ‘Goodnight and thank you for a lovely dinner.’
‘What do you mean, goodnight?’ he snapped angrily, as if the penny had finally dropped. ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in for a coffee or something?’
She shook her head again. ‘No, it really isn’t what I want, Simon,’ she insisted. ‘You really aren’t what I want. I’m trying not to be hurtful; I just want you to understand. I like working with you - but that’s as far as it goes.’
‘You little tease!’ Simon snorted. ‘You shouldn’t lead men on like you do. You’ll regret this, Maggie Howard. I promise you, you’ll regret it.’
But she had already turned away feeling both sorry for Simon, and relieved to be away from him. She went up the path without looking back, closed the front door behind her and took a deep breath, waiting for the sound of his car pulling away.
After a minute or two standing in the dark of the hall she heard the roar of the engine and sighed with relief. There was something she had to do and she certainly wasn’t going to do it with pining Simon lurking in the street outside.
She went upstairs, switched on her computer and began to type.
Dear Max…
She stared at the screen, trying to work out what it was she really wanted to say. She erased her introduction and began again.
You’re right, there is no escape, she eventually continued. Please may I… She paused again. How did she ask, how did she let him know that she wanted more than anything else to feel again the kiss of his whip on her flesh? She opened the drawer of her desk and drew out the contract, and then with her heart in her mouth she began typing again.
Humbly beg to be trained by you?
Maggie.
She pressed Send before she had a chance to lose her nerve, and then sat in the darkness staring at the screen. Although she was nervous and worried about what she had just done, she also knew with total certainty that it was the right thing to do.
>
As the thought settled in her head she heard a noise - a hiss and then a sharp intake of breath. At first she thought it was her imagination, and then she realised with a start that she had made a terrible mistake. The house wasn’t empty at all. Kay and Mike were in Kay’s room and the noise Maggie had heard was the swat of the crop or a whip. Something in Maggie’s belly tightened as she heard Kay’s emotional voice call out the number of the stroke.
‘One,’ she squealed.
Maggie closed her eyes, her body and mind instantly alight with the memory of Max’s touch. She crept across the landing and stood for a few seconds outside Kay’s door. There was no way she wanted them to know she was there, spying on them, but part of her longed to join in. She heard the whistle of the crop again, and this time a guttural cry as the implement found its mark.
‘Oh my, please master, please no,’ Kay begged as the crop cracked down again.
Maggie shuddered, feeling her sex tightening, and tiptoed back to her room.
Lying alone in the darkness, all thoughts of Simon receding fast, she listened as Mike thrashed Kay. At twenty-five strokes it finally stopped, and Maggie closed her eyes, imagining the sensation as a hungry cock drove deep into her friend’s cunt, filling her as her beaten buttocks ground back against his groin. It was almost more than she could bear. Without thinking she moved her hands down over her breasts, relishing their weight and softness in her palms, teasing the hardening peaks, and then when the need became greater still she moved on down across her flat tummy, finding herself wet and hot. Easing two fingers into the tight confines of her sex she began to circle the glowing bud of her clit, lifting her hips, imagining her fingers working in and out were a cock as she impaled herself again and again.
With her excitement being mirrored in the bedroom across the landing it didn’t take long for her to bring herself to the point of no return. As she stroked and explored and let the waves of pleasure wash over her she imagined Max Jordan there in the darkness, watching her every move, his eyes glinting with desire.
Finally Maggie fell asleep with her fingers still between her thighs.
‘I didn’t hear you come in last night,’ said Kay, helping herself to a cup of coffee, dressed in her bathrobe.
Maggie smiled and sipped her tea. ‘I was late getting back,’ she fibbed, wondering how Kay felt, imagining the pattern of marks on her silky smooth skin.
‘And how did your romantic dinner go with the lovely Simon?’
Maggie laughed bitterly. ‘It didn’t. It was a bit of disaster, really. Did you go out anywhere nice?’
Kay shook her head. ‘No, Mike came round and we had a nice quiet night in.’
‘Right,’ Maggie said casually. For a moment their eyes met, and strangely it was Maggie who blushed, not Kay.
‘Are you working at home today?’ said the latter, leaning easily against the kitchen unit.
‘No,’ said Maggie, glancing up at the clock. ‘I’m working on some layouts for the garden features, and it’s easier to do it at the office.’
Kay nodded. ‘Okay, well in that case I’ll see you later,’ she said, and was gone, taking her coffee with her.
Maggie worked doggedly all morning, keeping her head down and ignoring all questions about the events of the night before from others in the office. Time and again her mind strayed to the sound of Kay crying out in the darkness, intermingled with images of Max and Guido and the way the crop had felt, the way her own body had writhed under its cruel kiss.
Fortunately Simon didn’t show his face and by lunchtime she was feeling far less tense, except of course that she found herself checking the incoming email every ten minutes looking for Max’s reply. As she stared at the screen countless thoughts ran through her head. What if he didn’t respond? What if he didn’t want her, after all? What if it had all been a huge mistake?
Before she drove herself mad with worry and self-doubt she decided to go down to the canteen and pick up a sandwich and coffee, and to her surprise when she got back there was a huge bunch of scarlet roses, broken by soft sprays of gypsophila, sitting on her desk. Her first reaction was to look around in case it was a joke. Or worse still, what if they were from Simon?
She put her coffee down on the desk and undid the little note attached to the swathe of cellophane.
Welcome home, slave. Check your email. Your master.
With her heart beating nineteen-to-the-dozen she logged on, and there, tucked amongst at least a dozen other messages was a single line email inviting her to pick up an e-card from a bondage site. As it opened she shivered with anticipation, for on the screen was an image that could have very easily been her. Tastefully shot in black and white a naked female knelt at the feet of a man in full evening dress, her hands bound behind her back with cord. She was wearing a collar, but most of all it was her face that struck Maggie. Her expression was serenely beautiful, totally at ease with her submission. Under the image Max Jordan invited her to begin her training.
I will pick you up at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, from your home. Make sure you bring the contract with you. Signed, unless you change your mind again. I shall expect you to stay overnight. You will wear a full-length coat, short dark skirt and white blouse, hold-up stockings and high heels. You will not wear any underwear, unless of course you wish to be punished.
Max Jordan had an unfailing eye for detail, thought Maggie. She smiled and looked back at the bunch of roses, remembering her punishment last time she got the instructions wrong. Oddly enough, it was a relief to know he wanted her and, stranger still, how much she longed to feel that sense of being owned.
‘So what’s this then, a little token of affection from a mystery admirer?’ said a familiar voice.
Maggie looked up to find Simon standing alongside the desk. She quickly flicked off the screen so he couldn’t see the picture on the card.
‘Funny you should say that,’ she said as casually as she could manage.
Simon managed a weak grin. ‘About last night.’
‘I think I owe you an apology, Simon,’ she cut in, her resolve and confidence boosted by Max’s invitation.
‘I’ve been thinking, too,’ he countered. ‘Maybe I was taking things a bit too quickly. So to make it up to you I was wondering if you would like to come to the cinema with me at the weekend?’
Maggie smiled but shook her head. ‘No thanks, Simon. I’m flattered, but I meant it when I said you really aren’t my type.’
His expression soured immediately. ‘So what is your type?’ he sneered. ‘Men who send you roses, I suppose.’ And with that he marched off across the office in a foul mood again.
Maggie sighed. Men who didn’t behave like spoilt children would have been a better description. She looked back at the screen. Men like Max Jordan.
The following morning Maggie stood in her kitchen dressed exactly as she’d been instructed. She had one eye on the clock and shifted anxiously from foot to foot counting off the minutes. Waiting was awful. What if Max didn’t show up? What if it was all a cruel joke? She gazed in the mirror - her eyes looked wild and haunted, and when the doorbell rang she almost jumped out of her skin.
It was a sunny, lovely day, oddly normal in contrast to the images and memories in her head. Guido was waiting for her on the doorstep, and if he had any thoughts about her appearance or their earlier encounter in the woods it didn’t show on his face.
‘Good morning, Maggie,’ he said, and touched the peak of his driver’s cap.
Maggie reddened, remembering their last encounter. ‘Good morning.’
As she walked slowly away from the house she felt as if her life was about to change forever. As she got to the car Guido opened the nearside rear door, and to her surprise Max Jordan was waiting in the back.
He smiled and indicated that she should join him. ‘Good morning, Maggie,’ he said smoothly, as with her heart in her mouth she slipped in alongside him. ‘How nice to see you again,’ he said. ‘And how are you today?’ An
d then as the car drew smoothly away he added, ‘So have you got the contract with you, as I instructed?’
Maggie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She opened her bag and handed him the envelope.
He nodded. ‘Very good. Now, take off your clothes, except for your shoes and stockings.’ His manner was firm and concise. Maggie stared at him questioningly, but his expression remained totally neutral. ‘Already you disobey me?’ he said. ‘On one hand you beg to be allowed to serve and be trained by me, and then you fall at the first hurdle?’
Maggie looked around the interior of the car, anything rather than meet his eyes, shivering under his unflinching gaze. ‘But… but I can’t,’ she ventured. ‘Not here in your car.’
‘Oh but you can, my dear, and you will,’ he said confidently, ‘because I have instructed you to do so and you will obey me. You want to. You need to surrender, Maggie. Now take off your clothes, I won’t tell you again. Or would you rather we turned round and I took you home?’
‘No,’ Maggie blurted. ‘The thing is…’ her voice faded as she struggled with the reality of obedience.
Max appeared bored by her resistance and turned his attention to the envelope she’d given him. Ripping it open he pulled out the contract.
‘So, Maggie,’ he said, ‘let us see what it is you’ve agreed to. “The slave will be under her master’s complete and total control and will immediately obey and comply with any order or instruction given to her…’ He smiled eruditely, before reading further. ‘If the slave displeases or disobeys her master in any way she expects to endure any punishment he so chooses as necessary for her inappropriate actions…’
He studied her closely, his eyes bright. ‘Well, my dear?’
Maggie dropped her gaze, and with a sigh of resignation, slowly unbuttoned her coat and slipped it back off her shoulders. As Max continued to read she unbuttoned and removed her blouse, unzipped her skirt and eased it down over her hips, until she was sitting beside him in just hold-up stockings and her high heels. She knew without looking up that Guido was watching her progress in the rear-view mirror.
