by Sarah Fisher
The light was beginning to fade as they drew up outside the theatre. Guido got out to open the car door for them, touching his cap in a gesture of respect and subservience that Maggie suspected was little more than an act. He caught her eye and winked, and she coloured as Max glanced at her.
‘He is nothing,’ he stated as they walked to the theatre entrance. ‘He may use your body occasionally, but you must understand that’s all it is. He has no power over you that you do not give him.’
Maggie stared at him in amazement. ‘You know about Guido?’ she gasped.
Max nodded. ‘Of course I do,’ he said. ‘I know about everything that does on under my roof. Besides, he is still one of my pupils, just as you are.’
The idea horrified Maggie. ‘So will he be a master one day too?’ she asked.
Max shrugged. ‘Who can say? While Guido is in my service he will receive the training, he will go through the motions, but my experience is that masters are born, not made. I’m not sure he has the right balance of care and control.’
As he finished speaking a man in a dinner suit approached them and smiled. ‘Good evening, Mr Jordan,’ he said politely, ‘how very nice to see you again. Your box is ready.’
‘And my friends?’ Max asked.
‘Most are already seated,’ the man informed him.
Maggie looked at the man curiously. Did everyone know about Max, or was this man another member of the club? An usher showed them upstairs to a luxury box where two other men and two women were already waiting for the performance to begin. Maggie didn’t need to be told that the women were slaves; their whole demeanour gave them away. Like her they were beautifully dressed in evening gowns, and both had little black ribbons around their throats and sat in silence with eyes downcast.
She shivered, aware that she was glimpsing again the magical doorway into another world. Max indicated that she should sit alongside him, so she did so and sat with her gaze fixed on the floor like her fellow slaves. Max nodded greetings to his fellow theatregoers, and then the orchestra began the overture, making the prospect of any conversation unlikely.
The musical was a lavish production of Hamlet, with a full orchestra adding to the already rich story. As the tragedy began to unfold Maggie looked around at the other people in the box. Both men where in their late forties or early fifties, distinguished and worldly. One of the females was around Maggie’s age, whilst the other, a tiny blonde with big blue eyes, looked younger and was quite obviously overawed by their surroundings.
Her master rested a hand on her thigh, and slowly but surely lifted her dress so he could stroke her exposed cunt.
In the boxes opposite Maggie saw that other members of the audience appeared to be slaves and masters too, each of the women wearing the same black band around their throats. Were all these people a part of Max’s exclusive club?
In the box alongside theirs was a woman Maggie recognised, dressed in black velvet. It was Freya, and beside her was Beau, wearing a black tie that performed much the same function as the chokers the female slaves wore.
During the interval Max and Maggie made their way to a luxurious anteroom on the same floor, where uniformed staff served champagne cocktails to the twenty or so masters and mistresses and their charges. It appeared that only the masters engaged in conversation with each other.
‘So, is this your latest?’ said a large man sipping champagne from a glass dwarfed by his huge hand. On his arm was a diminutive brunette, who stood no taller than his chest.
Max nodded. ‘Indeed it is, Cedric,’ he said.
‘And is this the girl you’ll be putting up for auction?’
‘Yes, but have no fear, you’ll get a chance to put her through her paces before the sale.’
The tall man laughed. ‘I was sorry to have missed your last house party. I hear Mike’s new filly is quite a find, too.’
Max nodded in acknowledgement. ‘Indeed she is,’ he confirmed, and Maggie blushed as she realised they were talking about the night she had helped Max with Kay. She glanced around the room from the corner of her eye, trying to pick out familiar faces, trying to see if her lodger and her master were there too.
‘There will always be another time, Cedric,’ Max added.
‘Yes, but not necessarily with this one,’ he looked her up and down. ‘What did you say her name was?’
‘Maggie.’
‘Maggie…’ The tall man tried the name out on his tongue, as if tasting some unusual food. ‘How about tonight?’ he then suggested. ‘I will lend you Bella, if you like. I know you’ve always had a soft spot for her.’
Max’s expression didn’t falter. ‘Later perhaps,’ he declined the offer tactfully. ‘We’ve hardly time during the interval.’
‘I suppose not,’ the man conceded. ‘But I’d like a look at what’s on offer.’
Max clapped Cedric on the shoulder. ‘You are always so eager, my dear chap,’ he chuckled. ‘There will be plenty of time before the auction. Now come along and have another glass of champagne.’
Beside him the little brunette’s eyes darkened, and Maggie could almost taste her jealousy.
Max guided Maggie towards one of the waiters, but Cedric waved him away. ‘Not for me at the moment, I’ll catch up with you later,’ he said.
Max snorted. ‘The man is a pig,’ he murmured under his breath. ‘He and Bella have been together since she was sixteen. In essence she is his slave and he is her master, but it’s well known that she rules his little harem with a rod of iron. If she doesn’t like the slave he buys then life as one of Cedric’s stable can be a trial by fire. He should sell her; it would do her the world of good to feel the taste of the crop wielded with some purpose.’
Maggie shivered and turned to look at the couple’s retreating backs. It hadn’t occurred to her that the usual jealousies and insecurities had any place in this strange world. What if Cedric decided to buy her? What would life be like then?
The five-minute bell rang and everyone made their way back to the auditorium, where Maggie again looked around at the faces of the audience as they settled back into their seats. As the lights went down, across the heads of them Cedric smiled and lifted a hand in her direction, and quickly Maggie looked away, not wanting to encourage him. As he caught the gesture Max’s hand dropped onto her thigh possessively.
‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered. ‘I won’t let Cedric have you.’
Maggie shivered, wondering what influence Max had to ensure Cedric was kept at bay, and as the curtain went up for the second half she couldn’t help worrying about what the rest of the evening might hold for her.
As the final curtain call was taken and the applause gradually died away Max rose effortlessly. ‘Now for dinner, my dear,’ he said to her. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m absolutely ravenous.’
She had assumed they would be taken on somewhere by Guido; a private house or a restaurant, perhaps, but in fact a uniformed usher directed them back to the anteroom where double doors had been opened onto a luxurious dining room set with candles and linen and cut crystal that glittered magically in the flickering light.
Tables had been set around the room, the centre dominated by a larger table on a raised dais. It was here that Max, Maggie and the two couples who’d shared their box were led. Maggie blushed, feeling uncomfortable as the focus of attention, for all the other diners had taken their seats before she and Max were shown to theirs.
The food was exquisite, the service immaculate, but all the time they were eating, above the buzz of conversation and laughter, Maggie could sense the electricity of expectation in the air. As coffee was served one of the waiters went from table to table with an ice bucket, and each master drew a folded piece of paper from inside. Maggie noticed that when they reached the top table, while the other masters took a piece of paper Max politely declined and the waiter moved on.
Eventually, once all the tables were clear except for coffee cups and liqueur glasses, Max turned to her. ‘Ma
ggie,’ he said.
She looked at him anxiously. ‘Yes, master?’ she whispered.
‘Get up and take off your dress.’
She cringed inwardly, and for a few seconds stared at him in dismay and horror. Surely he couldn’t possibly mean it? Of all the things she’d been expecting this wasn’t one of them. There had to be at least forty people gathered in the dining room, not counting the waiting staff. She bit her lip, feeling her colour rise.
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 the
y 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.
