by JJ Argus
“Will you be dressed in a respectable fashion?”
He laughed and then turned away, leaving me glowering at his back.
I went to the closet. The dress was the only thing hanging there. It was, to my surprise, very long. But on the other hand, it was slit up past the hip. In fact, it was slit to the waist on both sides! It also looked like it had some pretty deep cleavage.
I sighed and threw it on the bed, then started back down the stairs. I went to his room, which was just down the hall from the tower on the top floor, and unpacked his things. Then I returned to my tower and climbed up to the bedroom, stripped, and examined the dress again. It had its own built-in bra, so there was nothing to be worn with it, other than that clip thing which I still had in my pussy, and the butt plug. I slipped it on and pulled it down, then adjusted my breasts in it.
The cleavage was indeed pretty visible. The built-in bra was push up, and designed to show my breasts in their best light. The wide, scoop neck was designed to let in that light! The dress was held up with two narrow straps over my shoulder which fastened together at the base of my neck. My shoulders were bare, as was most of my back to below my shoulder blades. The lower part of the dress, that is, below my chest, was not quite as wide as my body so that about two inches of tanned skin was visible on either side of it even when staring straight-on at the mirror. The only thing which held it together below the chest were half inch wide straps which curved over my hips front to back to keep the thing from flying wide as I moved.
I had to admit that it actually looked fantastic on me. I mean, Sir had good taste. If I had to be dressed by a man, he had the money and style for it. It was a dress I could wear in public, though of course, it would draw an awful lot of eyes. I put my things away, put on the stiletto heels, and then made my careful way down the stairs to the main building, then took the elevator down to the first floor.
It felt odd walking along that broad corridor. It really was like I was in Buckingham Palace, with all that antique furniture, the huge ancestral paintings, the expensive rugs, the wood paneling and the high ceilings with their elaborate moldings. Of course, that clip thing was still inside me, still pressed against my clit, still buzzing softly, distractingly. And I could feel the base of the butt plug pressed up deep between my buttocks, as well.
I found Sir in what he called the Great Room, which was a monstrous room with huge beams crossing the ceiling twenty five feet overhead. It had a huge chandelier, a fireplace he could walk into without bowing his head, and shields and spears and swords on the walls. He was in a high-backed chair before the fireplace talking on the phone, and gestured me over.
Putting his hand over the mouthpiece he grinned at me. “You'll find Jeremy in the kitchen,” he said, pointing at another corridor.
I nodded and started in that direction.
“Wait a minute. Come around here. Let me look at you.”
I flushed a bit but obeyed and he grinned as his eyes moved up and down me.
“Gorgeous,” he said. “And they say money can't buy happiness.”
He pointed towards the kitchen, then started talking into the phone again. I walked past and down another corridor, then, after checking a few doors, found the kitchen. It was immense, of course. It was an industrial kitchen which could cook for a banquet of a hundred people. Huge stoves and grilles lined one wall. There were a number of wide wooden counters in the middle of the room, with the metal doors of fridges and freezers all around their sides. Storage cabinets were on one side, more fridges and freezers on the other.
Jeremy, wearing a three piece suit, looking, now, like a butler, was speaking to a tall man of about thirty wearing white, whom I suspected was the chef. Both men turned to look at me as I came in, the chef seeming particularly admiring. I felt a tightness in my chest at that male admiration. I was already aroused, after all, and with my breasts half bare and that vibrator thing adding to the mix, I felt deliciously slutty and sexual as they looked down at me.
“Mr. Cooper, this is Miss Fire. I mentioned her earlier,” Jeremy said.
“My pleasure,” Cooper said. “Call me Tom.”
His eyes lingered long at my cleavage, but given how much of it there was I couldn't really blame him. My nipples were barely covered, and since they were stiff, and poked through the thin fabric, even that covering wasn't very discreet.
“Mr. Cooper knows exactly what meals and drinks your master likes, and how to best create them,” Jeremy said.
“Master?” I said, blushing a bit.
“A figure of speech. He is the Lord and Master of the estate, after all.”
“I don't suppose you'd like to tell me his name?” I asked.
Jeremy smiled. Cooper looked surprised, looked at Jeremy and then shrugged.
“As his personal assistant,” Jeremy said. “Your task here is as it was before, to make his life easier and more pleasant. That might mean fetching him drinks or food, or it might mean making phone calls on his behalf, or taking them, though generally I will take any calls. Whatever errands he wishes run, you'll run.
“I'd like to see her running in that dress,” Cooper said with a grin.
I grinned and stuck my tongue out at him and his own grin widened. I knew he was probably imagining me naked, probably imagining me bent across one of his counters this very second, and my stomach fluttered at the thought.
“There are four maids who look after the cleaning of the house full-time,” Jeremy said. “Their instructions are to clean only what rooms are empty. Mr. S... that is, your master does not wish servants under-foot, or bustling about vacuuming and cleaning where he is. You'll keep track of where the maids are at any given time so that if our master wishes to go there, you can go ahead and clear them out.”
“What do I tell them? That Sir is coming?”
“You'll tell them they must clean elsewhere for now as the master is coming. Again, 'master' has a different, if somewhat old-fashioned connotation in an old English estate than one you Americans probably use in popular speech.”
“I don't get why you won't just tell me his name,” I said, a trifle sulkily. “I'm bound to find out.”
“That is his decision. I would not choose to counter it. He enjoys his little jokes and games as a distraction from his more important pursuits. Familiarize yourself with the layout of the house. The maids are currently in the south wing. They generally move from north to south, that is, clockwise around the length of the house, starting on the top floor, then counter clockwise on the way back, and so on.”
“Will these uhm, maids know who I am?”
“They'll know what you are,” Jeremy said.
Cooper snigger and Jeremy eyed him coldly. “Mr. Cooper, I'm certain you have something to do.”
“Uhm, right,” Cooper said, turning away.
“You are not his first personal assistant, though he hasn't had one in a while. The maids are village women and have been with him for quite some time. They've been informed he has a new personal assistant. And in any event, they'll be aware that when anyone tells them that the master is coming they are to vacate that area.”
“He doesn't like maids?”
“He likes his privacy. That's well for you, given I doubt you want the maids stumbling in while you are performing more personal services for him,” he said with raised eyebrows that made me blush.
“Doesn't bother you,” I mumbled.
He smiled. “I am his man,” he said. “Again, this has a different connotation to an English gentleman than you Americans would understand. He hides little or nothing from me, nor can he. It has even fallen to me to discipline some of his personal assistants in the past,” he added blandly.
I opened my mouth, then shut it again at the thought of Jeremy bending me over and strapping me. My blush deepened and I shuffled uncomfortably as the vibrator buzzed and my stomach swirled. a
“I'm sure that won't be necessary in your case, Miss Fire,” he said.
“Uhm, no.”
&nbs
p; The idea was terribly embarrassing, yet, perhaps because of the low to medium level sexual arousal which I lived with now, there was a dark, sharp edge of heat and excitement to the thought, as well. The little vibrator thing buzzed against me and I swallowed nervously as I looked away.
Maybe it was partly the anonymity of it. Even with “Sir” there was an anonymity to what we did, because he didn't use my name and I didn't even know his. At one time I wouldn't have thought anonymous sex would be all that arousing, but given how kinky this was a part of me welcomed it. I found it freeing, since I had no fear of gossip or of living up to expectations of proper conduct. It was a very freeing experience, since I could do some pretty weird and wild stuff without feeling like my reputation was ruined, or even what people would think of me.
Like Sir had said before. The only person whose opinion of me mattered was him. It had been horribly embarrassing being half naked around that Arab guy, at first, but I'd never seen him again, and likely never would. And the embarrassment had faded, and turned into a sort of daring excitement at doing something so wicked. Was I an exhibitionist at heart? Well, in a way.
I certainly liked the way Sir had looked at me in this dress, and it kind of pleased me the way Jeremy and Cooper had looked at me too, to be honest. It was like, all my life I had to be careful about being seen to be showing off, or dressing or acting too slutty. But now I didn't. Sort of. Of course, given what Jeremy had already seen of me it was a little hard to be embarrassed about showing him some cleavage and long legs!
I was amazed, really, that I could even look at him without being horribly embarrassed. Remembering how he'd untied me in the back seat, where I'd been left naked, legs splayed, the vibrator inside me – ack! I blushed even to think of it! But, oddly, I was getting better. I mean, getting used to it, sort of. Or maybe I was just less modest than I had once been.
I wandered along the corridors, admiring the furnishings and art, the lovely carvings and care taken on everything from bannisters to ceilings and window frames. It was hard to believe just one man lived there. Why wasn't Sir married or something? Surely a handsome, wealthy man like him had had many women pursuing him.
Maybe women were put off by him having a dungeon in the basement. Well, assuming he wasn't kidding about that. I wondered what was in this dungeon. Were there torture devices, like those things you see in movies that stretch people out along tables?
As I walked along I opened doors, where they would open, and began to wonder where I would find the door to the basement. I retraced my route, looking around more near the servant areas, and found a door opening on a set of stone stairs. Feeling a hot little thrum of excitement in my stomach, I flicked on the old fashioned light switch and descended, but was disappointed to find nothing more than your average basement, dusty, filled with old furniture, tools, paint and boxes of holiday decorations.
I climbed back up to the main floor, and was just coming out when Jeremy walked up the hall. He raised an eyebrow.
“Familiarizing yourself with the layout of the house doesn't necessarily include the basement store rooms, Miss Fire, though I admire your thoroughness,” he said dryly.
I blushed a bit, and then, probably at least a little influenced by the warmth of the arousal which was almost always with me now, gave him a bit of a flirty look.
“I was looking for Sir's dungeon,” I said.
“Oh?”
“Sir said he had one built.”
“And you wish to inspect the dungeon?”
“Is there one? I mean, you said you had, uhm, disciplined girls before, Jeremy,” I said in a half teasing way.
“Indeed. Your master requires his staff to be well-disciplined.”
“I bet he doesn't spank you,” I said.
He pursed his lips in amusement. “I don't think he would enjoy the experience as much as he evidently does with you.”
My face heated a bit again, though as I said, I was sort of getting used to his knowledge.
“And do you enjoy disciplining young women, Jeremy?” I asked a bit breathlessly.
“It can be... rewarding,” he said. “Especially when the young woman in question has a lovely body and is particularly responsive to the variety of stimulus Sir has available.”
“Most girls respond to vibrators,” I said.
“Some of the things your master has are considerably less pleasant, at least in the short term, and yet produce a gratifying result with patience.”
I wondered what he meant by that.
“Gratifying?”
“In the way of teaching discipline. Gratifying to the young woman in question, as well, depending on her mindset.”
“And would you like to show me this dungeon, Jeremy?” I asked, a bit surprised at my own daring as I let my fingers walk lightly up his chest.
“I shall ask your master if he wishes you to see it.”
I drew back, a bit alarmed. “That's okay,” I said.
“Not at all. I'm sure he intends to make you familiar with it before too very long, I any event.”
“Uhm...”
“Come. Let us go and see him.”
“Oh but I'm sure he's busy!” I protested, as he took my arm and guided me firmly back towards the great room.
He ignored my protest, though, and I felt a swirl of emotions as we emerged into the Great room to find Sir reading some business papers. He looked up as we entered.
“Miss Fire has been asking to see the dungeon, Sir,” he said.
“Oh? You like dungeons, do you, Fire?” Sir asked.
“I uhm, well, he uhm, told me to familiarize myself with the house,” I said.
“Yes, she was in the basement.”
Sir snorted. “Go ahead. Take her to the dungeon, Jeremy. I'll be along in a bit.”
“Come then, Miss Fire,” Jeremy said, leading me by the arm.
“But... but I uhm, I'm not... I mean...”
“Come along.
There was another door near the kitchen, and it led down another set of curving stone stairs. I was feeling a rising sense of tension and anxiety as we descended, but my pussy was throbbing more and more powerfully, as well. We emerged in a large, lovely wine cellar, with beautiful rows of shelves, and subdued lighting.
“Nice,” I said.
He led me through it and out the other side. There was a wooden door there, and it opened to another stone stair, this one looking positively ancient.
“I thought this was new,” I said a bit nervously.
“The house itself is four hundred and eighty years old. It had numerous basements and sub-basements.”
We had to go down single file. The walls were of old, rounded river stones mortared together. The way was lit by medieval looking iron lamps hanging from chains overhead. No doubt, designed for effect, I thought, as if to reassure myself.
Round and round we went, with me starting to sweat a bit, until we came to the bottom, which was pitch black. I mean absolute pitch.
He flicked a light switch, and similar iron lamps lit up along a stone corridor. The floor was made of square cut stones, and we walked along it to a huge, thick wooden door with heavy metal bolts on one side. He moved beside me and threw the two big bolts aside, then pulled the door back.
“This place designed for Halloween?” I asked nervously.
He only smiled lightly and led me in, flicking on another switch.
Ahead of us were a row of three heavy wooden doors with foot wide windows... barred windows. The rest of the long, low room was filled with uhm, things. Scary looking things, frames and tables and … and things whose purpose looked awfully menacing. The X-shaped frame against the wall with the straps on the corners had a fairly obvious purpose. The padded wooden sawhorse with the straps on its legs also didn't take a lot of contemplation to deduce a purpose.
There was a cage, well, a half cage, hanging from a chain. I wasn't sure how that worked. And there was a thick, eight foot post with shackles near the top, which I though
t I understood, but why did it have the horizontal bar through it? And then, in the corner, was a plush wing chair, on a dark black rug ten feet square.
“Over here, Miss Fire,” he said.
He directed me to a strange circle on the floor. The floor was stone, but the wooden circle was about three feet across, and had two small posts rising from its center, each about a foot high.
“Come. Stand here,” he said.
“Why?” I asked nervously, not resisting as he moved me to stand in the center of the wooden circle.
“Sir usually likes his personal assistants to start here,” he said. “You get an excellent view of the facility.”
“But – .”
He raised my right hand up and I dropped my head back to see that there was a padded leather restraint hanging from a chain overhead. It was quite high, but lowered easily enough, as if the chain were an elastic.
“Jeremy!” I protested.
His grip was like iron, not harsh, but firm, as he held my hand in place and slipped the restraint over it. He tightened it around my wrist, then gripped my other hand.
“But... I haven't done anything!” I protested.
“As I described your position to you earlier, you are here to do whatever will make life easier or more pleasant for your master,” he said, as he tightened the other restraint.
He moved aside to a metallic post nearby, and pressed a button. There was a kind of distant machine sound, and I felt my wrists pulled up and apart, raising me to the balls of my feet. He pressed it again, and the chains lowered again, so that my heels were firmly on the floor.
He walked to a cupboard nearby. There was a chest of drawers there, and over it were a pair of doors. He opened one of the drawers and took something out, then removed some plastic, and returned to me. I tried to see what he held but he kept it at his side, away from me, then moved behind me and gathered in my hair.
“Jere – .”
He pulled my head back and I gasped, mouth wide. And in that instant his other hand came around, pushing the ball gag against my open mouth, then quickly, with a practiced motion, into my mouth. I felt a sudden wave of fear, but he seemed quite casual, even as he undid the strap at the back of my neck, undid the back of my dress, and the whole thing slid down around my hips, then down around my ankles.
