Mary
I don’t know why I returned to the office that evening, why I ran half a block to make sure I made it through reception before the doors closed at 5 p.m. but I did.
I should have been celebrating with the legal guys, it’s not every day you win a discrimination case, but it’s not every day some money grabbing little whore makes the whole thing up and the Tribubunal takes ten minutes to reach a decision clearing me and the firm of any wrong doing.
She had no idea that my web cam was running continuously, all the time my computer was on, I hadn’t realised myself to be honest that the little lens at the top of my monitor recorded most everything that happened, and when I found my tower unit’s memory stuffed full of footage of me working I decided to keep it on a spare hard drive as a record, I didn’t plan it but at every point in time that little tramp complained I had acted improperly and touched her up in my office the cam showed me and her talking about work.
Every single occasion, she even confirmed the date on occasion, “Yes Tomorrow, the twenty second.” she said in one clip.
She had no idea, she insisted CCTV footage was used showing her entering my office at the times she alleged I had assaulted her, so she could hardly complain when we suggested they use the web cam footage as well.
“Clearing your desk?” I asked as I saw her, bending over her desk stuffing the photographs, trinkets and junk in a cardboard box.
“Of course.” she said icily, “You won, remember.”
“I would hardly say I won, but you certainly lost.” I suggested, She still wore her prim proper Tribunal suit, dark blue Jacket and matching knee length skirt over pale almost white pantihose, her white blouse was crisp but hardly revealing and she had her long blonde hair pulled back into a bun, she even wore glasses, which hid her deep blue eyes and the tears which welled deep in them.
“Why aren’t you celebrating?” she asked.
“Don’t feel like it,” I answered, “I really want to understand why,” I paused and than I asked, “What did you hope to achieve?”
She looked down at the desk, “Phew, isn’t that obvious, glass ceiling, all that.”
“But why me?” I asked, “Why falsify a complaint about me?”
“You’re senior partner, well the senior partner’s son,” she pointed out, “Logic.”
“Mary,” I said soothingly.
“Miss Hastings,” she corrected me.
“Mary,” I repeated, “You put me through six months of hell, Jessica called off our engagement, I suppose you know that, and our legal bill is near a quarter of a million pounds.”
“Well mine’s not chicken feed.” she snapped.
“Good thing the union’s paying.” I suggested.
“That’s what I thought,” she said, “But they only pay my costs, not yours.” I must have looked shocked, “Didn’t you know, I’m bankrupt, effectively.” she said, “No job, which will mean no flat which means.”
“It’s hardly my fault!” I exclaimed.
“Of course it is, all those times, in your office.” she accused.
“I never did a thing!” I recoiled.
“Exactly!” she said triumphantly, “It was horrible, Jennie said all I had to do was wear a wonderbra and be friendly and the rest would follow.”
“I don’t understand?” I explained.
“Unprofessional behaviour,” she explained, “A quick quarter million settlement out of court and move on, except she’s moved on while I.”
“Jennie was your?” I asked.
“Girlfriend.” she said, “Are you shocked?”
“No, I thought you were a, ah.” I said searching for the politically correct term.
“Bi,” she said. “with a Be and an Eye.”
“I see,” I knew the rumours abounded of my romps with prostitutes, “Not Bee You Wye.”
“No,” she almost laughed.
“Oh well, no hard feelings eh,” I said, “What plans do you have?” I suddenly thought.
“Mind your own business.” she said, “Actually, all I can do is file for bankruptcy and go home to mother.”
“But your Law degree, surely you can’t practise if you go bankrupt?” I suggested.
“I waitressed in McDonlds, I’ll do it again.” she said.
“That’s fine at Seventeen but sad at Forty.” I told her.
“Well obviously I’m finished here,” she said.
“I’m afraid so, gross misconduct, making false allegations,” I agreed, “I think you will be terminated without notice from start of business Monday.” I turned away, “It’s funny.”
“It certainly isn’t.” she said.
“I wanted to say about your dress, ask you to cover up, you made me nervous,” I asked, “Did you know?”
“All hot and bothered, that was the plan,” she admitted.
“I like you better dressed like that.” I told her, “I suppose I feel safe.”
“Safe, you?” she said, “The ultimate predator, different girl at each social event!”
“They’re escorts, I pay.” I admitted.
“You pay whores for sex?” she said.
“Yes, but separately, the escorts are just for the social events,” I explained, “Well educated well spoken beauties and I treat them as if I were a gentleman, and then for sex.”
“For sex?” she said.
“Well well spoken and intelligent are hardly criteria.” I explained, “I just want to pay my fifty pounds and not have someone turn up nine months pregnant in due course.”
She turned round to face me and sat on the edge of her desk.
“I see,” she said, “Why are you telling me this?”
“You’re a good listener?” I suggested, “Captive audience.”
“But, it’s disgusting!” she suggested.
“I wanted to explain.” I continued, “I thought you wanted a relationship, no an entrapment, get pregnant, like Francine did to Dad, do you see?”
“Oh,” she exclaimed, “I see, no, that wasn’t it, not babies, just money.”
“Never mind, crossed wires, shall I give you a hand with this to your car?” I suggested.
“I’d better leave it, it’s company property.” she said sadly, “Get a Taxi.”
“I’ll help you down with the box,” I offered.
“How much is a Taxi to Sydenham?” she asked.
“No idea,” I exclaimed.
“You couldn’t lend me fifty could you.” she asked.
“Fifty, ah.” I said.
“Oh no don’t get ideas” she said, “No I didn’t mean that.”
“Right, Fifty, no, of course not, better not then.” I said realising I had mentioned paying Fifty quid for sex.
“I’ll drive you.” I offered, “Perkins can pick us up, how’s that?”
“Oh no,” she demurred.
“Ready made chaperone.” I insisted, “Least I can do.” I left her and went to my office, it took but moments to phone and ask Perkins to come to collect us in the Limo, well our big black company Chrysler 300 which looked like a Bentley but cost a third as much.
I looked in the Mirror, I guess I shouldn’t have but suddenly there was an old man staring back at me, I suppose it was the suit, but the fact was for six months I had been so preoccupied with the “Case” that I had never really thought what I looked like.
Christ. I thought, “What a prat!” The suit and shit were off the peg, about seventy quid from Asda Wal Mart, a deliberate ploy so I didn’t appear too arrogant but it meant that I looked like a failed carpet salesman not a senior figure in a two hundred year old family firm.
I would have to go home and change before the evening.
Perkins rang from the corner by Lloyds bank, it was difficult to park outside our building so we arranged that he would wait there until I waved from our steps, and when he arrived I gallantly carried Miss Hastings things down to the car.
Perkins glided to a halt and I opened the tailgate and loaded the box into the cavernous interior as Perkins opened the door for “Madam!”
I joined her in the rear seat.
“Where to?” I asked.
“My Mum’s at Sydenham, can we stop by my flat, Arbermarle Gardens 134b,” she asked.
“Do you know the way Perkins?” I asked.
“No Sir, but the Maestro does,” he said referring to the after-market sat nav glued awkwardly to the dashboard.
I accompanied her to her flat, the lift took us to the third foor she seemed very sad, “I was a girl scout,” she admitted, as we walked in to find her cases all neatly packed, “Be prepared,”
“You were expecting to lose?” I asked.
“Just hedging my bets.” she said, “It’s in Jennie’s name, I can just walk away.”
It seemed very strange to be carrying cases for the woman who tried to ruin me, but she seemed different in her neat business suit, somehow more desirable.
“I’ll just put the key through the Concierge’s door,” she said as I took the second pair of cases down to the Chrysler, I watched her walk away and go into a door some way away and then she was striding back down towards me, her hair still in a bun but at least her awful glasses were gone.
I think if she had thanked me my assistance either then or before we got to my house then things might have turned out differently but it easy to be wise with hindsight, but anyway logic suggested we stopped off at my house “The Pines” before we took her on to Sydenham and I went on to dinner courtesy of Haliwell Barnes.
“I don’t know what I’ll tell Mother,” she confided as we drove along and then as we entered the electrically operated gates of “The Pines,” she gasped, “Is this your parent’s place.”
“No, mine,” I told her, “I had a bit of a bonus from Goldmans before Grandfather did the emotional blackmail act on me, I’m not a lawyer do you see.”
“Oh,” she exclaimed, “I see”
“Jessica twisted my arm,” I said, “My ex fiance.” I said “She believed you, and left me.”
“Oh.” she said.
“Perkins, would you stop by the Gymnasium please.” I asked, and I turned to Mary and said. “Jess designed it, but she was gone before the builders finished, would you care to see it.”
“I want to get home to Mother really,” she said.
“Oh but I insist,” I said, “It still looks like a barn from outside but Jess had it planned that all the state of the art fitness aids would be installed together with the pool, oh and she arranged it so no one could see in.”
“I see,” she said thoughtfully, as Perkins stopped the car and opened her door.
I slid across the seat inelegantly and followed her as Perkins led her to the old oak door that opened to show the state of the art steel door of the Gymnasium, “Fire proof, burglar proof, soundproof,” I told her, as I placed my palm on the polished aluminium sensor pad and the door hummed as it gently opened.
“I could have lost this through your lies.” I told her as I ushered her inside, “Fetch Madams bags Perkins,” I suggested.
“Excuse me?” she said, but Perkins was already walking away, and as he passed through the door hummed and closed oh so gently.
“What do you,” she said, but I took hold of the lapels of her jacket and wrenched it down her back trapping her hands behind her, “What are you doing!” she protested.
Her blouse tore nicely the button holes elongated and then broke through, and her skirt came down easily enough as sid her pantihose and panties and within a minute she was reduced from smart city girl to a near naked whore.
“No,” she squealed even before I tore her jacket in half and flipped her bra catch and she seemed completely unable to grasp what was happening, even when I ripped her brassiere down and off and freed her feet from the mess of shoes and panties to leave her pink and naked.
“You see,” I said, “Do you understand what it feel like to be destroyed, even as we speak Perkins is burning your cases, you have nothing Miss Hastings do you understand, nothing, between the Tribunal and myself you are utterly destroyed.”
“I’m.” she said in terror, “Don’t kill me.”
“Oh no, that’s too good,” I suggested and silently cursed the ready made trousers which made no provision for an erection at all, “no what is two hundred and fifty thousand pounds divided by fifty pounds?”
“F’five thousand,” she said.
“So here’s the deal, you stay here until I’ve fucked my quarter of a million quid out of you at fifty quid a time, do we have a deal?”
“Don’t kill me.” she said quietly.
“Then play with yourself and get yourself nice and wet for me.” I said menacingly as I picked up her skirt and tore it into three pieces and tore the gusset from her panties.
“You’re sick, you scare me!” she said.
“Don’t be afraid, I did five years with the Guards,” I reminded her, “I know exactly how to kill and how far I can go without maiming or killing as well Mary.
I saw her fingers working as she tried to spread herself to get some lubrication flowing, “Fourteenth of April against the files in the cupboard,” I reminded her from her statement,
“Shall we try in the cupboard over there?”
“No!” she whimpered, so I just slipped my nasty cheap trousers and underpants off and rounded on her as she lay beside the poolside steps.
I pulled her legs roughly apart by the ankles and knelt between her thighs an paused momentarily before I slammed my erection right into her in a single mighty thrust.
She wailed like an over curious virgin impaled for the first time so I waited a second before I started to hump her.
Suddenly the troubles of the day just melted away as I luxuriated in the liquid warmth of her innermost parts, “That’s really pleasant thank you.” I said nastily, “Make yourself at home, because it may well be your home for quite a while.”
“No!” she protested but her protests turned to whimpers of pleasure as despite herself she too felt the troubles of the day dissolve into a maelstrom of sex, true lust driven loveless sex, at least on my part, I just used her, I suppose it was because I could, no need for consideration, no risk of getting blacklisted by some pimp, I could just use her as I wished and I did, and the best bit was when I finally shot my load deep in her, without a disgusting rubber to constrain and contain my potency, I could just flood her womb and that was wonderful.
I stood up afterwards and handed her a fifty pound note, “Keep it safe and when you have a quarter of million let me know and I’ll let you out.”
She looked at me incredulously as she mopped at her wetness with her ruined shirt, she stared at me as I told her “I have a dinner party, Perkins will bring you some food, a properly balanced diet that will keep your coat nice and glossy, according to the packet!” well dog food never hurt anybody.
It was a nice touch but I found a leather belt for her neck and another longer one and a couple of
tiny padlocks and I padlocked her to the Pool steps handrail by her neck before I dressed and made my way to the house to dress formally.
I drove myself to town, Tim Forster of Haliwell Barnes had invited me with the prospect of either liquidating my assets to pay Miss Hastings or liquidating hers to pay my costs, the Ferrari howled menacingly as I headed down the dual carriageway but I soon wished that I had brought the MINI when the reality of London Traffic and more especially myopic London Taxi drivers became apparent.
It was an interesting evening, my date, “Amanda” was a second year student at Southampton University, I realised within seconds she had a first in lying from the university of life, and within five minutes she admitted everything including effectively leaving school at twelve and admitting she hoped for two hundred extra for extras over and above the companionship over dinner.
I decided to decline later, but Rupert Franklin interested me in a deal with Mary, “If we Bankrupt her it will send a message but we get nothing, but if she will sign an arraingement whereby we get anything over the basic two hundred quid a week she needs to live on then I think we could maybe recover something useful, although with just a year to clear bankruptcy a year or two might be the most we can lever out of her.”
“I’ll put it to her people tomorrow,” I offered, “shall we say fifty thousand as our target and just be satisfied at that?”
“I doubt we’ll clear twenty thousand, but lets try fifty as a first offer.” Rupert suggested.
Amanda who was by now calling herself Amelia was on at least her tenth glass of Champagne and was becoming something of a joke by now so as soon as was decent, and well before the port appeared I made my excuses and left.
I dropped Amanda off in the Kings Cross area where I was sure she would find a gentleman willing to pay for her charms while I returned to “The Pines.” Perkins had turned in judging from the faint glow from the gap in the curtains of his cottage, and Mrs Wilberforce my cook Housekeeper had gone to her cottage next door to Perkins just across the courtyard from my back door.
I undressed carefully and dressed in a tracksuit and trainers, I felt I needed some exercise, get the heart pounding that sort of thing, and then I jogged the hundred yards or so to the Barn and Gymnasium.
A chastened Mary watched warily as I approached her, he hands and neck were raw from her attempts to get free from the leather belts and there on the tiles a yellow pool glistened accusingly.
“I couldn’t get to the bathroom,” she explained.
“No,” I agreed, “Did you enjoy your food?” I hoped Perkins had fed her.
“It was disgusting, what was it?” she asked.
“It’s very nutritious, my Labrador “Patch” loved it,” I explained, “But you see if you behave like a bitch you eat dog food.”
I thought she would throw up but she just scowled disapprovingly as I mopped up the yellow pool with her ruined shirt.
“You can’t keep me here!” she protested.
“Actually, I rather think I can.” I contradicted her, “But I haven’t offered you a drink, would you like Champagne, or there is some orange juice or some Australian white or red.”
“You’re completely mad, as in insane.” she said.
“Champagne it is then,” I agreed, “Then perhaps we could make love,”
“You want to rape me again?” she asked.
“No, you were a willing partner,” I insisted, “remember?”
I carefully over filled a wine glass with cheap champagne and carefully spilled some on her breasts as I handed her the glass, she took a few sips before I took the glass from her and bent to lick the spilled liquid from her breast, her nipple stiffened instantly.
“Oh,” she gasped before she came back to reality, “Stop that please!”
“Hold still there’s some more,” I advised, as I saw champagne glistening on her lips and before she knew I had flicked my tongue across her lips leaving her slightly open mouthed and very confused.
She stared at me as I undressed, I was used to the gasps as I pulled my tracksuit bottoms down, no not that, my tool is only average, it’s the scar from where the shrapnel got me when our Warrior armoured car was hit by “Friendly Fire,” another two inches lower and I’d have been a Eunuch.
“Oh god!” she said, “No wonder they were so quick,” as realisation dawned that her claims that I had exposed myself to her were so obviously false, who could miss that ugly great scar, now no shirt tails draped my appendage and I stood before her naked.
“How, why?” she asked, “Can you have children?” she asked.
“Not personally, but with the assistance of a willing assistant I believe I can,” I assured her, “But it’s late and you have fifty pounds to earn….”
“Please, don’t hurt me.” she asked, “Give me a moment.” she asked as she dipped her finger into her pink slit, down among the blonde curls, exciting herself, “All right,” she agreed as she lay back accepting her fate.
It’s always better the second time, with the awkwardness gone, I find, but cold hard glazed tiles are as hard on my knees and elbows as they were on her back and I was soon wishing I had taken her to my own soft bed, but soon enough waves of pleasure washed over me, a sudden whim had her hair released and without any real effort on her part I was ready to cum.
I really enjoyed letting fly deep inside her, I never risked it with casual girlfriends or whores but I much preferred raw natural unprotected sex to the sanitised condomised version, I reasoned she would be infertile for at least a few weeks after she stopped taking her pill and I was pretty sure that as a Lesbian she was not diseased, so it was pure unadulterated pleasure as I pumped her completely full of my silvery cream.
I almost gave her a love bite on her neck as started to cum but that’s bad form with a whore so guilt stopped me until I realised it didn’t matter, and so I bit and kissed her neck like a thirsty Count Dracula oblivious to the effect on her beautifully pale skin.
I lay quietly for a moment as my erection shrank, resting on her, letting her take my weight, I know it’s not gentlemanly but she had little choice.
“I need the bathroom,” she announced which rather spoiled the mood.
I looked towards the bathroom door, polished aluminium in a teak frame, Jessica chose it, “Bitch,” I thought, my beautiful, capricious, arrogant, selfish, self obsessed Jessica who walked out when she believed Mary’s lies.
Jess wasn’t coming back, she became engaged to Giles so soon after leaving me that I would have assumed they had an affair behind my back if I hadn’t known her better.
Candlelight, fine wines, a sense of occasion, that was what was required to prise Jessica’s legs apart, we shared the same bed for nine months, kissed and cuddled but sex was somehow a precious commodity to Jess not something to be wasted, but she rode to hounds and Father and more important Grand Father liked her, so we made glorious love irregularly and I took my pleasure elsewhere, discreetly.
But Mary, I was already wondering whether my plan to release her in the morning was the right outcome, she fucked very nicely, Perkins could be relied on to keep her presence a secret, as could Mrs Wilberforce, although I couldn’t be sure Mable Wilberforce could be trusted not to flay the skin of Mary’s back with a Horsewhip if the opportunity arose, “She should be tied to a rail and horse whipped,” was one of her favourite sayings for anyone ineligible for her usual sanction of hanging, or “Put before a Firing squad like a rat in a Barrel.”
“I need the bathroom,” she said again.
“Yes,” I agreed, “Of course.” I pulled my jog pants up and slipped the sweater back on as I stood up.
I had a key somewhere, I remembered, there were duplicates in the touch pad operated cupboard by the rowing machine so I found one and unlocked her leash from the hand rail.
I was part way to the bathroom when she whined, “Surely you’re not going to watch?”
“No, its dark outside.” I said, as the idea came to me, she was a bitch, bitches are dogs and dogs do their business when they go walkies.
I killed the lights before I opened the door and then I dragged her out, she tried to resist but seemed scared to make too much noise as I pulled her out onto the concrete path and then dragged her onto the wet grass.
“I thought you needed the bathroom?” I suggested.
“You’re mad insane mad,” she shivered in the cold air, “not nice mad, insane mad.”
“You’re the one wearing a dog collar and nothing else,” I suggested, “maybe you feel like making a run for it?” I let her lead fall.
She looked up at me in the faint moonlight, “Don’t be ridiculous, no one would believe me!”
she said hopelessly.
Half a day ago she had stood before the tribunal in the Magistrates Court all dressed up like a senior executive and now here she was leashed and being taken walkies like a dog, like a bitch, a satisfied little bitch with my cum dipping out of her.
We walked quietly up the track towards the eight foot high boundary wall which divided us from the “North Road” as we still called it despite the redesignation to B road status since the Dual Carriageway opened and then eventually I asked, “I thought you wanted the Bathroom,”
“I can’t.” she exclaimed.
“Yes you can just squat down,” I told her and I pressed her down into a squat and idly held her leash with my left hand and stroked her hair with my right, “It’s all right, I’m here you’re quite safe!” I told her.
It wasn’t the least bit erotic, the smell was unpleasant, the farting noises disgusting but she did what she needed to right there, on the grass.
“I need a tissue,” she said quietly.
“There some rag at the Gym,” I reminded her, “Or there’s some long grass, watch the stinging nettles though.”
We walked back quietly and she cleaned herself up with her torn panties and skirt which I threw in the trash bin and then I leashed her to the handrail again, wished her “Goodnight”, locked the gymnasium door and walked home
I showered, ate a swift snack and turned in just before 2 a.m. and then I lay awake worrying about Mary for at least twenty seconds before I fell into a gloriously satisfied sleep.
Part two
It was Saturday, I woke early, for a Saturday around ten, I felt contented like you do after good sex and I took a moment to remember what had happened the day before.
Mary Hastings, the bitch was now my bitch, tied up in my gymnasium, I smiled, I could have sex just when I wanted, I rang down for breakfast, “Scrambled egg on toast for two.” I requested, “I’ll come down for it, can I have it on a tray to eat in the Gym?”
“Certainly Mister Stephen,” Mrs Wilberforce agreed, referring to the fact she had previously worked for my father and indeed for his father before that.
The sad fact was that father fell for Francine, his P.A, she got pregnant, mother left and father was left in reduced circumstances, especially when Grandfather insisted I join the firm as de facto M.D.
Father still had the “Senior Partner,” plaque on his door and allegedly came in to work on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but now home for him was a three bedroom semi on the north Circular which he shared with an embittered Francine and little Jasmine.
It seemed odd that I now had a step mother eight years younger than myself, younger indeed than my one time fiancee, as I approached my thirty fifth birthday, but time for musing was limited as I needed to get the breakfast tray to the Gymnasium while it remained hot.
I placed a cloth over the tray and hurried down the drive to the gymnasium, Perkins was just coming out ugh the door with a mop and bucket, “It’s pissed itself again,” he said loudly, “Disgusting!”
“How are you,” I asked, but she didn’t need to say, the tears flowing freely said it all, “Did Perkins fuck you?” I asked, “It’s all right, I said he could.” I lied.
“No, he said,” she whispered,” he called me ‘It,’ like I was nothing.”
“But you are nothing my dear,” I reassured her, “Here have some breakfast.”
“No!” she said before she realised it was scrambled egg and coffee.
“You must eat, keep your strength up,” I suggested, “Replenish those pussy juices,” I leered at her, “Or shall I take my pleasure first?”
“My mother will be worried,” she suggested.
“With good reason as it happens,” I reassured her, “But what I thought we would do is email someone to pass a message that you are keeping a low profile for a while.”
“Oh yes, sure!” she said, “In your dreams.”
“Mrs Wilberforce will be along to whip you around eleven thirty,” I explained, “perhaps you will change your mind then.”
“Oh yes, sure she will,” she said sarcastically.
“Mary,” I said, “Shall I call you Mary?” I paused, “Only yesterday you insisted on being called Miss Hastings, clearly that is no longer an option, so shall we say Mary, or Bitch or It?”
“What do I care?” she said, “It’s only a matter of time before someone finds me!”
“Oh I do hope not!” I explained, “But if Mrs Wilberforce is too rough, or you get an infection or something clearly we will have to dispose of you but do you know Perkins and poor old Mable loathe you even more than I do.”
She tried to hit me but I had the distance calculated precisely and her leash brought her up short.
“Now my dear Mary, that was unfortunate,” I said as I moved away, “So I have delicious toast and egg for your breakfast which is cooling rapidly, so Mary you may eat with your right hand but your left,” I said insistently, “You must place at least three fingers of your left hand in your pussy as you eat, do you understand?”
“No!” she protested, but she eyed the toast hungrily.
“Nobody will see,” I reassured her, “It’s getting cold.”
Her hand crept guiltily towards her crotch, the area around her nipples was darkening already anticipating her own touch and then as the first digit disappeared I went to hand her the first strip of toast, but changed my mind and suggested she, “Open wide.”
She let me feed her, “Rub your other hand over your breasts as you eat.” I suggested.
“No!” she refused, but she did it all the same, gently caressing herself.
“Is this the kinkiest thing you have ever done?” I asked.
She stopped instantly, “Nung,” she said with her mouth full, “Last night,”
“What?” I queried.
“Last night, you know, you, me, outside.” she said, “The house, the valley, the moonlight.”
“You liked it?” I asked incredulously, as I poured hot coffee from the silver pot into a china cup and added sugar and milk.
“No!” she exclaimed, “Definitely not but it was hardly normal!”
“Eat your toast,” I suggested.
I still fed her the strips of toast, I held the coffee cup for her and she quietly wanked herself as she ate.
She seemed delightfully soft and fluffy as she pleasured herself, a world away from the money grabbing bitch of yesterday’s Tribunal, and as she drained the last dregs of coffee I gently eased her knees apart and slipped my tracksuit bottoms down.
“Condom?” she whispered.
“No!” I replied, “Spoils the moment,”
“Babies, clap,” she said, “Hepatitus aids,”
“I’ll risk it,” I agreed.
“Ohhhh!” she squealed in frustration, but she put her arms out as I sank down and up inside her in a single motion.
It was in her eyes, confusion, she clearly hated the fact she was enjoying me as much as I was enjoying fucking her, she felt so right, so soft and pink and it was a real job deciding where she ended and I began, I kissed her mouth, she tasted of Egg and coffee and I realised she had actually eaten my breakfast as well as her own, but it didn’t matter, a small price to pay for a glorious early morning ride.
“My back, the floors too hard,” she moaned quietly at one stage.
“Hush, it’s nothing,” I reassured her, “Mrs Wilberforce will whip you later and that will hurt so much you’ll have to lie on your tummy.”
“Oh great!” she replied but somehow she seemed to grip me tighter, her breathing became more rasping and my balls started that crinkling feeling that precedes ejaculation.
“Pull out, please,” she requested nicely enough but the first spurt of creamy cum was well on its way and I wasn’t going to waste it.
Her eyes were wide with the force of my cum as it invaded all her hidden secret places, “Oh no we mustn’t,” she said despairingly and then she squeezed me some more as my balls emptied.
“Can I have a tissue” she asked as I stood up.
“No.” I said simply, “You can’t but I have work to do,”
I looked around the gymnasium, the Gym as I called it, , the rowing machine, the treadmill and of course the swimming pool which took up the whole of the northern half of the building, twenty first century technology and seventeenth century architecture blended seamlessly, or so Jessica said, actually I thought stainless steel and Limestone rather jarred but what did I know.
The Gym had some nice touches, although the computer system we had fitted was now far from state of the art but still one could work with the wireless keyboard and use the Plasma TV screen as a monitor, so I retrieved the mouse and keyboard, switched the power on and sat down to write.
“Dear Mother,” I wrote, “Do you call her Mother.” I asked.
“What, oh yes,” Mary replied, “But she doesn’t do email.”
“What about a father?” I asked.
“Yes,Mother and Father,” she slowly.
“Good, so,” I suggested, “Had to go to ground for a while, the Williams will try to have me declared bankrupt if their process servers find me so until I’ve got a plan please just be assured that I’m fine, your loving daughter Mary.”
“They’ll know that wasn’t from me,” she said triumphantly, “Just be assured,” she sneered “it’s my mum not a client.”
She looked at the screen.
“Hi,”it said “The Tribunal was rigged, I’m going to chill for a while, think it through, be in touch when I get back.” “M” she read, “PS can you let Mummy know.”
“You Bastard.” she said.
“What’s your password,” I asked.
“Not saying!” she muttered. and then “How the hell!” she exclaimed as her email account appeared on screen.
“I’ll use the Yahoo account then, not Hushmail.” I suggested.
It took a while to scroll through old messages and then I found a Facebook confirmation, password, the lot, and suddenly the whole thing was much easier.
Some of the things she called me on Facebook were definitely libellous, but I uploaded the message sent it to a number of her friends and even before I finished Mrs Wilberforce was ringing the doorbell.
I let her in and she brought some Ham sandwiches and a carton of orange juice for me and then stood around waiting.
“Don’t mind me Mable,” I suggested as she stood waiting in her cheap nylon smock with her grey hair in rollers under a headscarf and looking every one of her sixty eight years.
“I works best on me own Mr Stephen sir,” she said, “I likes to take me coat off see.” she suggested.
“So take your coat off, but get on with it,” I said authoritatively.
“Very good sir.” she said.
Never in my worst nightmares had I thought she would venture out without at least a vest under her smock but suddenly as the nylon fluttered to the floor two huge unsupported Tits flopped out over the most elaborate black leather corset I ever want to see, it must have had twenty or more stout leather straps pulling her in like firm young muscles to quote the wrong advertisement, and then there were the leather shorts and the thigh boots, and of course the whips which she had brought with her.
She looked like some nightmare caricature from a dodgy German language porn film.
I would have laughed but Mary just screamed, “No.” and put up her arms to protect herself.
This would not do, so I found some soft rope and tied Mary’s hands together on the far sid of the handrail giving Mrs Wilberforce a clear target of Mary’s back.
“That’s better Mr Stephen sir,” she said, “I’ll make that little bitch wish she never crossed you sir, that I will.”
I watched her select the longest whip, her bare shoulders rippled as she got her range and aim and after about four gentle swats she laid into Mary and started counting. “One!”
“Ah, no, Stephen, for pity’s, ah, sake,” Mary squealed, “I thought you liked, ah, me.”
The red marks were faint to begin with but as blow rained on blow a beautiful criss cross pattern started to emerge, I sat and watched as I ate my sandwiches, “Have a rest Mrs Wilberforce don’t overdo it,” I suggested as she counted to forty eight.
“Stop, please stop!” Mary added.
“I’m only concerned about you Mable,” I reassured her, “would you like a nice cup of tea before you continue?”
“Yes sir, I’ll get it.” she said as she pulled the whip back once more.
“No, you sit down I’ll do it, tea for you as well Mary.” I asked.
“You are deranged,” she said “Ah,” Mable swatted her again, “Completely unhinged.”
“Two sugars Mary?” I asked as I went to the tiny kitchen through the doorway into what had been a lean to stable before we converted the barn to find the jug and teapot.
“No, I’m on a diet.” she said and she started crying again.
It took a few minutes to make the Tea, and when I returned Mrs Wilberforce was sitting beside Mary resting, “Mr Williams was a lovely man, of course I was young then,” Mrs Wilberforce was saying, “Just out of school, see, six months pregnant with our Joseph and he gives me a job with a flat.”
“My Grandfather is a very good man but he did have particular tastes,” I added as I brought the tray, “Particularly mother’s milk.”
“I think that’s what growed me tits,” Mable admitted, “I reckon Joseph was four before they dried up.”
“That’s old Mr Williams?” Mary asked, “My God!”
“Oh yes, he whipped me once, we used to play when the “Misses” was out and I grabbed the whip and whipped him and he liked it, like you do.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Mary insisted.
“He did as well,” Mable insisted, “his little thingy went all stiff, it used to curl up like a little mouse and then after a bit it stuck out like a bit of broom handle.”
“I meant suggesting I like being assaulted.” Mary snapped.
“So why are your nipples all extended,” I asked,” and the area round all dark, and why are you sweating and damp between the legs?”
“It’s warm in here?” she suggested, “anyway I’m not.” she insisted, but Mrs Wilberforce took the spare whip and eased it between Mary’s bruised and pounting cunt lips, “No stop that, thats not fair!”
“All right?” I asked and Mrs Wilberforce just let the whip flails fall between Mary’s thighs and left the Whip handle deep inside her.
“It’s not the whipping!” she protested.
“I think she’s got a thing for you Mister Stephen,” Mable observed, “She’d look nice in a ball gown.” she said, “Like your Mother.”
“Eh?” Mary queried.
“I couldn’t never wear a ball gown, not sensibly,” Mrs Wilberforce explained, “me tits was too heavy but she got nice medium ones like your mum.”
“Mother is somewhat notorious on the swingers scene in Hendon,” I explained, “she loves wearing a hideously expensive ball gown, diamonds, pearls and a smile.”
“So the whole family are perverts?” she asked.
“Well,” I explained, “Father obviously got the idea you were too or you would never have got the job.” I paused, “Have some tea, three sugars, keep your strength up.”
“I can’t drink like this,” Mary said, and as she knelt there naked but for her collar and the rope round her wrists with a whip thrust deep inside her vagina you had to admit she had a point.
I put the cup in front of her, she put it to her lips an drank, “Uggh, I don’t like tea.” she complained.
“You should have said,” I sympathised, “I could have warmed some beer.”
“Ok, ok, I’ll drink it.” she agreed.
“Just put the cup down carefully when you finish and Mrs Wilberforce can finish up, and I’ll be back soon, just got to drop your clothes off at the Jumble sale in the Village.” I suggested.
I was sure she didn’t believe me but that’s exactly what I did, everything clean, except some of the underwear which I burned, and a little black dress, I put in bin liners and threw them in the Range Rover and took them the three miles to the Village hall.
The ladies of the Womens Institute were as pleased to receive the clothes as they were annoyed at my lateness only ten minutes before the doors opened for the sale, but they quickly distributed the garments and I in turn photographed them on my little camera phone to show Mary her things had gone to a good cause.
She was sobbing when I walked into the Gym, Perkins was just leaving with the bucket and mop, “It pissed itself again,” he said, “It was wanking itself with a whip handle earlier.”
“Hello,” I said brightly as I saw her crouching there, her back a mass of red weals some bloodied some just bruised.
“I want to go home!” she wailed, “Please!” she said, “I hurt so much,”
“Then why is there a whip handle rammed in your sex?” I asked.
“It takes my mind off the pain!” she said reasonably.
“I gave your clothes to the WI jumble sale look,” I said and showed her the camera, she snorted and cried even louder.
“I thought you would be pleased.” I explained.
“You’re horrible!” she said, “Totally vile and despicable, and.” her whip handle hit the floor with a plop.
“You really fancy me don’t you,” I accused her, “Just like Mrs Wilberforce said,”
“Oh no, no way,” she lied.
“So you don’t want to spend the afternoon in my nice soft bed watching snooker on TV?” I suggested, “You would rather stay here?”
“No of course not.” she replied in annoyance, “And you have no intention of taking me to your,” she paused as she noticed I was carrying something in a carrier bag, “Bed.”
I showed her the little back dress.
“Shall we?” I suggested.
“Who’s playing” she asked.
“Graham Dott and Ali Carter.” I explained.
“I like Stephen Hendry,” she said.
“Bed then?” I asked.
“Yes,” she agreed, “Anything is better than this.”
It took barely a moment to release her but she needed a shower and her back was a real mess, so it was nearly three when she slipped her dress on and I carried her to the Range rover and drove her to my home.
I carried her indoors too, and upstairs to my room and gently set her down on the bed, where I lifted her black dress over head leaving her deliciously naked.
“I’m afraid the bed is more for sleeping than sex,” I apologised, “Oh an the door operates on palm prints so hard luck, and the en suite is through there so no pissing in the corner.”
She scowled at me, her back looked painful so I took the bottle of lotion Mrs Wilberforce had supplied and started to rub it into her back., “I’ll credit you a pound a lash so a hundred a day thats seven hundred pounds a week.”
“Oh god no,” she exclaimed, “no I can’t stand it, can’t we just have sex, four, five times a day.”
“I suppose I might,” I agreed, “But why?”
“To pay you back of course.” she replied.
“Why the hurry, don’t you like it here?” I asked and I gestured towards the window with the magnificent views across the vale.
“I want my life back.” she said.
“As a lying little lesbian tart,” I suggested. “Oh no dear girl I think not, no consort, concubine, my little ready use prostitute that’s what I have planned for you, if you’re agreeable.”
“No, never.” she said, “I want my life back.”
“With your little Lesbian friend, I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I suggested, “And bankruptcy will ruin your career,” I suggested, “No I think a year of regular whippings and regular sex and living like an animal will do you a power of good.”
“No, you can’t” she protested, “Ok sex, yes sex no problem, but for gods sake look at my back.”
“It’s delightful,” I assured her.
“But it hurts!” she said, “And I hate it in that Gymnasium.”
She lay there petulantly, “Shall we say one hundred lashes every Saturday, and regular sex,” I thought about it, “No, make that sex on demand, mouth, vagina, anus, everywhere in fact, what do you say?”
“For gods sake!” she said.
“And we’ll do a deal on your debt,” I suggested, “You pay it off we keep you out of the bankruptcy courts.”
“And the other days?” she asked, “Whipping on Saturdays.”
“Yes, and Sundays if you want to pay me off quicker, a pound a lash, fifty pounds a fuck.”
“And where do I live?” she asked.
“In the Gym except when you are required for sex.” I said icily.
“How often is that?” she asked,
“Twenty four seven if you like, perhaps you could work in the post room or canteen or as a cleaner at the office in case I need you?” I suggested, then I felt the urge returning. “Roll on your back, I want you.” I said, perhaps not the most romantic proposal but then I added, “And I’ll want you again in the morning so don’t run away.”
“Bastard!” she muttered.
“I want that filthy mouth of yours this time,” I added as I rolled over on top of her,”You won’t mind if I explore your tonsils with my tongue will you?”
She thought I meant a blow job, but when I held her cheeks she knew, she knew it was something far more intimate, “Whore’s usually like to keep this special, so it’s a real bonus if I can practice on you.” I explained.
“It’s all right,” she whispered, “Any thing’s better than last night.” and so we kissed and as we kissed I eased myself gently into her.
“Mmmmm, nice,” she commented, and that was it almost no foreplay and I was gloriously sheathed in her, she seemed agitated somehow, or confused, or.
“Don’t hold back,” I insisted, “If you want to scream at me just do it, it’s soundproof.”I suggested, “Tell me you hate me, scream at me if you like.”
“I don’t, it shouldn’t feel so good, it’s not fair.” she said, “Why can’t you be nice to me, pretend you love me or something?”
“Because you tried to destroy me or course,” I explained, “Now shut up and enjoy your fuck.”
Morning arrived deliciously, I looked down and saw the top of her head as she gently sucked my cock to life.
“Who told you you could suck my cock?” I asked.
“I want you to make love to me,” she answered with a mischievous look in her eye.
“You’re trying to avoid a whipping.” I accused.
“Yes,” she admitted, “Look if I’m the best lover you ever ever had would you let me off?”
“Yes, if your the best lover ever.” I agreed, “Tell me you love me then.”
“I love you then,” she said without hesitation.
“Hey, Mary,” I exclaimed, “Miss Hastings, you sounded like you meant it, it’s only a game.”
“For you maybe but not for me, it’s my only hope, isn’t it?” she asked.
“There’s no need to get emotional.” I explained, “Is there?”
“I’m a woman not a bloody robot,” she said suddenly serious, “You make love to me and say its just a fuck, who are you trying to fool Mr Williams, because you don’t fool me.”
“I’ll have Perkins fuck you then.” I suggested.
“No you wont.” she said, “You want me all for yourself, you wanted me in that courtroom.”
“Yes, I wanted to tear your clothes off and fuck you right then and there,” I agreed, “You looked so,”
“Sexy?” she asked.
“Like the old pictures of my mother,” I explained, “Do you see?”
“No.” she said.
“Suck me off then there’s a good slut.” I said but she didn’t she swung round over me and grabbed my erect tool and sank down on it until her pussy engulfed me, “My turn to fuck you lover!” she exclaimed and she bounced up and down several times before I rolled her over and started to hump her energetically.
“Yes, that’s it fuck me harder you bastard,” she said and suddenly it was all about her, exciting her pleasuring her and I wanted her to have the best time and then with a rush it was over.
I held her, I wanted to tell everything was all right, she didn’t have to worry, that I had forgiven her but I couldn’t. I just told her I loved her.
“I know,” she said, “I know, now rest and we’ll do it again after breakfast.”
But she was not getting away with her treachery and lies that easily I decided, one good whipping was hardly enough, no she would have to work for it if she wanted to be mine.