Sordid Secrets (Lady Athena Book 1)

by Mistress Kaz

  “Hello.” I stated not sure of what else to say. It wasn’t even a question the way I said it, just an acknowledgement.

  The line sounded a little broken but I could hear her voice as sweet as ever.

  ‘Katsy. It’s me, Zora.”

  “Oh…Zora.” I said stupidly. It was a rare thing for me to be lost for words and I didn’t like it one bit.

  After a moment, I regained my composure and asked, “How’s Thailand?”

  “Kats, it’s totally amazing. I spent a month at the elephant sanctuary helping orphaned elephants, then we got a bus to Cambodia. It’s amazing, so inspiring! I’ve been in the middle of absolutely nowhere surrounded by nature for 5 weeks. That’s why I haven’t been able to call.”

  “I see.” I said coolly. “I am glad that you are having a good time.” I think my words had come across a little colder than intended, but Zora didn’t let on if she noticed. That was just her way, always soft and sweet and I immediately felt bad for using such an icy tone.

  “I have enough material for my book now.” She continued excitedly “We stopped in four different countries. On top of the factual piece I’m writing, it’s also inspired me to write a fictional piece written through the eyes of a gorilla whose natural habitat is being destroyed. Anyway, enough about me, how are you?”

  “I’ve been getting along just fine.” I managed indignantly. What did she expect? That I’d fall apart the minute she left me.

  “I’m glad you are ok Katsy.” Zora soothed softly. I hated her for it. I had vowed not to get sucked in but I could feel myself relenting already. I must not let her do this to me.

  “So where are you off to next?” I said in a tone that was intended as upbeat but came off as disinterested.

  “I’m coming home Kats. It’s been amazing, but I miss home and I….I miss you.”

  “How is Benjamin?” I asked a little sarcastically.

  Zora laughed “He’s a bit of a bore as you should well know Katsy. But he is an excellent photographer and the project required someone like him to work. I’m not interested in Ben romantically and never would be in a billion years!”

  I let out an almost silent sigh of relief. Zora had always admitted that there was no attraction between her and Benjamin, yet knowing that she was going travelling with him for 6 months, I just couldn’t take it. Sometimes I would rather destroy things before I let them destroy me. I wouldn’t allow those feelings of jealousy to tear me up inside. I would rather just sever the connection than feel the ice cold pangs of rejection.

  She sounded a little sad and almost child-like as she said “I know you are angry with me, but this project was so important to me. Please understand that. Can we meet up? Just for a coffee? I fly back next week.

  “I don’t know things are pretty hectic around here…”

  “Just for coffee, please?”

  Despite my better judgement, I began nodding and heard myself whisper “Ok, just for coffee”

  The line started to crackle and her next words became broken.

  “Zora, I can’t hear you. The line’s crackling.” I said in frustration.

  I could hear her saying “…long. I….you…want….work. I love…..so soon”.

  “Say again Zora?” What did she love? Elephants? Being away from home….me?

  Then the line went dead and I threw the phone down in frustration.

  I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment with my head in my hands. Zora would be coming back to Hertfordshire next week. It had been five months since I last saw her. Five long and painful months. Was I ready to let her back in my life again? I was just beginning to mend and the thought of having my heart shattered into tiny pieces was too much. I would meet her for coffee, nothing else. That is all that would happen.

  Amy

  I sat in the bath enjoying the feeling of the warm water lapping over my body. I had added a fizzing orchid fragranced bath bomb and the scent and sensation of the water was luxurious. The pink water fizzed and bubbled around me and I breathed a sigh of contentment.

  Maid had been right about today’s events. The earlier anxiety I had felt had begun to slip away. Lying here in this bath this afternoon’s activities all seemed like a funny dream now. It was like I was encapsulated in a safe bubble. I just hoped it wasn’t going to burst. I shook these negative thoughts from my mind and splashed water over my face…washing the day away.

  I pondered going down to dinner tonight, but I didn’t really fancy the idea of sitting with a bunch of strangers after such a strange day. I didn’t really wish to face anyone apart from Maid right now. I much preferred the idea of retiring to my room. I was reading a good book presently about a child spy that worked for the government and I couldn’t wait to get back to it.

  The pull of hunger however was too much and I decided I would pop down to the kitchens and get Maid to plate me up something to eat to bring back with me. I looked forward to some good food and curling up on my pillow with a good book.

  Reluctantly I pulled myself up out of the water, slipped on a towelling robe and let the water drain away. I wandered to the bedroom and pulled the band out of my hair. Picking up a brush I brushed out my long red hair until it was tangle free. My natural hair was much shinier than the wig I had worn today and I had been glad to eventually take the wig off. It weighed a ton!

  I slipped into a comfortable pair of black silk panties and a matching bra. Then I stepped into a pair of tight fit denim leggings and threw a lime green over-sized vest top over the top. After wearing high heels all day long, I opted for a cute but functional pair of silver pumps.

  I scanned my refection which I conceded was appropriate for the task at hand. After all who was I likely to see apart from Maid?

  My stomach was starting to rumble. I decided I would quickly switch my phone on and check my messages then I’d head downstairs.

  One was from my friend Sophie:

  “Hey Amy! Didn’t see you at Zumba this week? Hope you are ok. Call me.”

  The next was from my husband:

  “Wow great round of golf today! Having a great time in the Algarve. I hope you are having fun with the girls. Love you. Xx”

  My heart skipped a beat and I felt a pang of guilt. My husband had no idea where I was. Having said that, it was the first time he had text me in two days and it had been months since we’d done anything in the marital bed other than sleep. Only two more days and my adventures would be over. I’d go back to being a boring house wife and back to my office job. It would be like none of this had ever happened.

  The third message was from my mother:

  “We never see you anymore! When are you coming to visit? Let me know, I’ll make your favourite cakes. Dad misses you too”

  I felt a sinking feeling inside. She was right. I hadn’t been to see them for weeks now. I made a mental note to schedule a visit to my mother as soon as I was back.

  I tapped out a reply to my mother “Miss you too. I’m back next Thursday and will call you to arrange a visit. Cake sounds amazing! xxx”

  To Sophie I sent “Much needed vacation. I’ll pick you up on route next week. Hope the PT isn’t working you too hard at Zumba…or are you working him hard ;)”

  Then I tapped out a reply to my husband which was much harder. I wrote and re-wrote the text several times then deleted it. Finally, I wrote “It’s so hot I’ve stayed in the shade all day. The girls are all hungover haha! Glad the golf is going well - love you too. Don’t get sun burnt! Xxx”

  I worded it carefully, so he didn’t ask why I was so ghostly pale upon my return. I tended to stay out of the sun anyway so it would be very believable. My gut filled with remorse and shame. I hated lying to everyone. What would they think of me if they knew the truth? The thought of this was crippling and I pushed it to the back of my mind and wondered what Maid was cooking.

  I left the room ensuring the key was in my pocket and walked down the corridor and onto the main stairway. I skipped quickly down the stairs,
urged on by the hunger pangs in my tummy. About half way down I noticed a painting I hadn’t spotted before. It was of a red head holding a book and a pen in her right hand. She was slim with vibrant green eyes. She was smiling, but had a shy look about her. In fact – she looked a little like me! I wondered who the painting was of and made a mental note to ask Maid when I saw him.

  I skipped down the last remaining stairs, carried on past the main dining room. I could hear soft music, chatter and laughter coming from the great hall, but I had no interest in getting to know any of these people. As far as I was concerned they were all masked strangers and objects for exploration. That might sound cold, but I truly loved my husband and wasn’t looking for an emotional attachment, merely something physical that I couldn’t get from him.

  I continued towards the kitchen round the back and the wonderful smell of roast chicken, garlic and onions greeted me. It smelt quite delicious!

  I approached the swinging door of the kitchen and called out “Maid, I have a question…”

  As I was passing through a man with a plate of food nearly knocked me over.

  “Oh sorry…..” he began and then we both stared at one another in horror.

  “Hugh” I exclaimed in shock.

  “Amy!” he replied. His eyes darted all over me to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask the same of you.” I challenged indignantly.

  He stood there awkwardly holding the plate of food. His mouth moved but no words came out and we stood in uncomfortable silence just gawping at each other. My mind raced through various possibilities for why he could be here, but none of them seemed plausible. Realisation set in and I concluded that my husband was also a guest here. It was like a blow to the stomach.

  “You were the mysterious brunette. I knew you looked familiar! How could you…” he began.

  “How could I? Well how about you!” I raged. We stood in the doorway glaring at each other. My cheeks flushed red with anger and shame and tears sprung to my eyes.

  “What the hell do you think you are doing Amy! How could you lie to me!” he snapped angrily, his eyes flashing with pain.

  “Oh!! And how is the Algarve? Did you fly back by Concorde? Or did you use a time portal?” I yelled back angrily.

  He stood there, his face red, his head shaking from side to side.

  “Well?” I pushed.

  “Amy it’s not what you think…” I rolled my eyes as the cliché dripped off his tongue.

  “Really? What is it then? Do you have a new job as a kitchen porter 100 miles from home?” I challenged.

  “Well at least I didn’t let a slave go down on me!” he said with scorn in his voice.

  I recoiled as if he had slapped me. Anger surged through me but I knew he was right. Yet still he was such a hypocrite!

  “Well at least I didn’t take it in the bum!” I countered.

  He blushed with embarrassment and I could see him physically recoiling as if I had slapped him.

  “Most of that was from you!” he justified.

  “But you didn’t know it was me did you!” I raged at him, my voice wavering. “It could have been anyone. What if it had of continued? Would you have had sex with me?”

  “No!” he yelled, a vein throbbing in his temple as he raged. “Would you?”

  “No of course not” I snapped. Why didn’t you tell me you wanted it in the bum? Are you bisexual?

  “No! I…I..” he stuttered lost for words.

  “This was the worst idea I ever had!” I yelled “Apart from marrying you!”

  I regretted the words the minute they left my mouth. As my husband stood there with his mouth hanging wide open I turned on my heel to flee back to the safety of my room. He had caught up with me grabbed my arm and we stood yelling at each other in the hallway for a while.

  We screamed at each other and then I wriggled out of his grasp and ran to my room. When I got there, I threw myself onto the bed and sobbed. Not only was I a complete screw up, I’d also pushed my husband away and now it looked like things would never be the same again. We were over. How could we possibly fix this horrible mess? The weight of the world hung from my shoulders and I sagged onto the bed feeling lost.

  Lady Athena

  Subs attending my ‘Sluttery For Wayward Slaves’ were well catered for. Of course, I charged them a premium but they could expect good value for money. The smaller dining hall was open for breakfast and lunch during the day and there was a trolley service for snacks in the afternoon.

  For an extra fee, guests could request room service during the day but at night guests were expected to dine in the main dining room or make their own arrangements. I couldn’t possibly expect Maid to cook and deliver dinner to every guest who required it!

  Some preferred to fetch a plate of food from the kitchen and were under strict instructions to return all utensils afterwards. Sometimes they needed space after session and sometimes they need human contact.

  Occasionally, I would dine with the slaves and other times I would eat in my private lounge. Tonight, I felt sociable so decided to eat with the slaves. Some might find this odd but I quite enjoyed conversation over a good meal. They were always so full of wonderment and curiosity. Their eyes would gleam with delight as I regaled humorous stories of former slaves.

  Of course, I was never anything less than 100% professional and would never reveal my former guest’s identities, but I did tell a good story, and embellish them a little at times. My tales literally had my guests clutching at their sides with hysteria when I told them of some of the more bizarre incidents that had happened over the years at the Sluttery.

  One of my favourite tales involved a well-known politician who liked to dress up an adult baby and be bottle fed. He was a jolly and articulate chap with a penchant for a good glass of Remy. One evening he’d become roaring drunk after hitting the scotch hard and had totally forgotten where he was.

  He had wondered off to the local village and was found wearing just a terry cloth nappy and holding a rattle. Two policemen had brought him back. Fortunately, the police and I had a mutual understanding and made sure that they would be reimbursed for their inconvenience. I thanked them for bringing him back safely, and it was all swept under the carpet.

  The next day the politician was mortified and was convinced he was going to lose his job. Thank goodness this didn’t happen and he was more cautious of over indulging in alcohol from then on. When he came to visit me though I’d always tease him by saying “No going out tonight in your nappy naughty baby!”. Thankfully he saw the funny side!

  I was just regaling this tale to a wide-eyed sub as Maid laid a bowl of minted New Jersey potatoes on the table and held a platter of roasted quails in the other.

  I leant back, cautious of getting my outfit stained. I never wore my fetish gear at meal times. I preferred to wear an elegant back dress and a diamante choker with my hair pulled up into a sophisticated style. I always liked to look my best though and spilt food was something I wanted to avoid.

  I sat at the head of the table watching the servant as he poured wine into our goblets. This was a time for everyone to unwind, taste some of the latest wines in my cellar and eat good food. Sometimes I would have up to 15 guests at a time and the long table would be filled with baskets of bread, olives and dips. Wine would flow freely; soft music would be played and jazz piped around the room. Occasionally, if I had a musically gifted slave staying with me for a while, I would have them play on the grand piano whilst we dined. I enjoyed the finer things in life when it came to dining, music and good wine and my boot camps afforded me this lifestyle.

  Occasionally a wealthy client would even buy some bottles of champagne and treat everyone. As a result, my cellar was always full of expensive champagnes and wines in case of a special occasion.

  Today was indeed a special occasion. It was nine years exactly on this day that I had opened the Sluttery and a celebration
was in order.

  Maid had done a fine job this evening of creating and serving a delicious menu. First on the agenda was grilled king prawns in a garlic, chilli and lime marinade. For mains we had fillet mignon, baby quails, dauphinoise potatoes, and creamed swede with black pepper and a medley of vegetables. I rarely paid attention to what was for dessert, but I heard whispers of chocolate dipped strawberries, white chocolate champagne fondue, panna cotta and amaretto jelly with a kiwi dip. I had already decided upon my dessert and opened the waiting bottle of Riocha.

  Maid was busy with another guest, so I did the honours and topped my own glass a third of the way up and then lifted the glass to my nose, appreciating it’s fruity bouquet.

  “Maid” I called out across the long table. “Be a darling and ask Nobby to fetch a case of champagne please.”

  Nobby’s actual name was Eric, but when he came to work in the kitchens a few years back he was always scurrying about and begging to be given another job.

  “You are like the little house elf in Harry Potter.” I teased him, “Dobby!”

  He had seemed quite pleased with this and then for some reason or other, Dobby had changed to Nobby and the name had stuck. He would bow to new visitors and announce, “I am Nobby and at your service.”

  The name suited him. He was slight of frame with a light whisp of hair that grew across one side across his forehead. His skin tone was pale, his eyes were wide and a vibrant blue, and he possessed a sweet child-like smile and a gentle nature.

  Nobby appeared lugging a case of champagne with him and I wondered how he managed to get up and down the stairs so fast! He was slight of frame, but extremely strong for his size. I sometimes wondered if he did have a magic wand that just made things appear. He was extremely efficient and never let me down. My staff worked meticulously and at times the pressure upon them was immense. However, I always ensured to be generous with time off and financial bonuses. Good staff were hard to replace and so I guaranteed I kept their loyalty.