Maggie and the Master (7 page)

Maggie laughed bitterly. ‘It didn't. It was a bit of disaster, really. Did you go out anywhere nice?'

Kay shook her head. ‘No, Mike came round and we had a nice quiet night in.'

‘Right,' Maggie said casually. For a moment their eyes met, and strangely it was Maggie who blushed, not Kay.

‘Are you working at home today?' said the latter, leaning easily against the kitchen unit.

‘No,' said Maggie, glancing up at the clock. ‘I'm working on some layouts for the garden features, and it's easier to do it at the office.'

Kay nodded. ‘Okay, well in that case I'll see you later,' she said, and was gone, taking her coffee with her.

Maggie worked doggedly all morning, keeping her head down and ignoring all questions about the events of the night before from others in the office. Time and again her mind strayed to the sound of Kay crying out in the darkness, intermingled with images of Max and Guido and the way the crop had felt, the way her own body had writhed under its cruel kiss.

Fortunately Simon didn't show his face and by lunchtime she was feeling far less tense, except of course that she found herself checking the incoming email every ten minutes looking for Max's reply. As she stared at the screen countless thoughts ran through her head. What if he didn't respond? What if he didn't want her, after all? What if it had all been a huge mistake?

Before she drove herself mad with worry and self-doubt she decided to go down to the canteen and pick up a sandwich and coffee, and to her surprise when she got back there was a huge bunch of scarlet roses, broken by soft sprays of gypsophila, sitting on her desk. Her first reaction was to look around in case it was a joke. Or worse still, what if they were from Simon?

She put her coffee down on the desk and undid the little note attached to the swathe of cellophane.

Welcome home, slave. Check your email. Your master
.

With her heart beating nineteen-to-the-dozen she logged on, and there, tucked amongst at least a dozen other messages was a single line email inviting her to pick up an e-card from a bondage site. As it opened she shivered with anticipation, for on the screen was an image that could have very easily been her. Tastefully shot in black and white a naked female knelt at the feet of a man in full evening dress, her hands bound behind her back with cord. She was wearing a collar, but most of all it was her face that struck Maggie. Her expression was serenely beautiful, totally at ease with her submission. Under the image Max Jordan invited her to begin her training.

I will pick you up at ten o'clock tomorrow morning, from your home. Make sure you bring the contract with you. Signed, unless you change your mind again. I shall expect you to stay overnight. You will wear a full-length coat, short dark skirt and white blouse, hold-up stockings and high heels. You will not wear any underwear, unless of course you wish to be punished
.

Max Jordan had an unfailing eye for detail, thought Maggie. She smiled and looked back at the bunch of roses, remembering her punishment last time she got the instructions wrong. Oddly enough, it was a relief to know he wanted her and, stranger still, how much she longed to feel that sense of being owned.

‘So what's this then, a little token of affection from a mystery admirer?' said a familiar voice.

Maggie looked up to find Simon standing alongside the desk. She quickly flicked off the screen so he couldn't see the picture on the card.

‘Funny you should say that,' she said as casually as she could manage.

Simon managed a weak grin. ‘About last night.'

‘I think I owe you an apology, Simon,' she cut in, her resolve and confidence boosted by Max's invitation.

‘I've been thinking, too,' he countered. ‘Maybe I was taking things a bit too quickly. So to make it up to you I was wondering if you would like to come to the cinema with me at the weekend?'

Maggie smiled but shook her head. ‘No thanks, Simon. I'm flattered, but I meant it when I said you really aren't my type.'

His expression soured immediately. ‘So what is your type?' he sneered. ‘Men who send you roses, I suppose.' And with that he marched off across the office in a foul mood again.

Maggie sighed. Men who didn't behave like spoilt children would have been a better description. She looked back at the screen. Men like Max Jordan.

The following morning Maggie stood in her kitchen dressed exactly as she'd been instructed. She had one eye on the clock and shifted anxiously from foot to foot counting off the minutes. Waiting was awful. What if Max didn't show up? What if it was all a cruel joke? She gazed in the mirror - her eyes looked wild and haunted, and when the doorbell rang she almost jumped out of her skin.

It was a sunny, lovely day, oddly normal in contrast to the images and memories in her head. Guido was waiting for her on the doorstep, and if he had any thoughts about her appearance or their earlier encounter in the woods it didn't show on his face.

‘Good morning, Maggie,' he said, and touched the peak of his driver's cap.

Maggie reddened, remembering their last encounter. ‘Good morning.'

As she walked slowly away from the house she felt as if her life was about to change forever. As she got to the car Guido opened the nearside rear door, and to her surprise Max Jordan was waiting in the back.

He smiled and indicated that she should join him. ‘Good morning, Maggie,' he said smoothly, as with her heart in her mouth she slipped in alongside him. ‘How nice to see you again,' he said. ‘And how are you today?' And then as the car drew smoothly away he added, ‘So have you got the contract with you, as I instructed?'

Maggie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She opened her bag and handed him the envelope.

He nodded. ‘Very good. Now, take off your clothes, except for your shoes and stockings.' His manner was firm and concise. Maggie stared at him questioningly, but his expression remained totally neutral. ‘Already you disobey me?' he said. ‘On one hand you beg to be allowed to serve and be trained by me, and then you fall at the first hurdle?'

Maggie looked around the interior of the car, anything rather than meet his eyes, shivering under his unflinching gaze. ‘But… but I can't,' she ventured. ‘Not here in your car.'

‘Oh but you can, my dear, and you will,' he said confidently, ‘because I have instructed you to do so and you will obey me. You want to. You need to surrender, Maggie. Now take off your clothes, I won't tell you again. Or would you rather we turned round and I took you home?'

‘No,' Maggie blurted. ‘The thing is…' her voice faded as she struggled with the reality of obedience.

Max appeared bored by her resistance and turned his attention to the envelope she'd given him. Ripping it open he pulled out the contract.

‘So, Maggie,' he said, ‘let us see what it is you've agreed to. “The slave will be under her master's complete and total control and will immediately obey and comply with any order or instruction given to her…' He smiled eruditely, before reading further. ‘If the slave displeases or disobeys her master in any way she expects to endure any punishment he so chooses as necessary for her inappropriate actions…'

He studied her closely, his eyes bright. ‘Well, my dear?'

Maggie dropped her gaze, and with a sigh of resignation, slowly unbuttoned her coat and slipped it back off her shoulders. As Max continued to read she unbuttoned and removed her blouse, unzipped her skirt and eased it down over her hips, until she was sitting beside him in just hold-up stockings and her high heels. She knew without looking up that Guido was watching her progress in the rear-view mirror.

‘Very good, my dear,' Max said, as she folded her clothes on the seat. ‘Here.' He handed her the collar she had worn so briefly at the hotel. Without a word she put it on and then turned slightly so he could snap the little lock shut. The sound made her shiver with anticipation.

Max looked her up and down appreciatively and then cupped one breast, rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger. ‘Open your legs.' His tone was crisp and businesslike.

Maggie stiffened. His fingers tightened on her nipple making her gasp, but still she resisted him. ‘Maggie,' he growled, squeezing the bud between his fingertips, making her cry out in shock, and this time she let her knees fall apart.

With no prelude his free hand dropped into her lap, fingers roughly prising her sex open, exposing her totally. Maggie gasped; there was no finesse here, just a desire to explore her body in the basest of ways. He drove a finger between her lips, a sense of shame swamping her as he explored her delicate folds.

‘Did you find her nice and tight, Guido?' he asked casually, and Maggie looked up in horror, reddening furiously. It hadn't occurred to her that Max would know about her escapades in the woods with his driver. She had assumed it was a secret between her and Guido - and knew in her heart that it would never have happened had it not been for the lingering image of slavery and submission Max Jordan had imprinted on her mind.

‘Yes, sir,' said Guido, his eyes twinkling in the mirror. ‘Nice and tight, and really hot for it.'

Max brushed her clitoris with his thumb, making the muscles in her belly tighten. Maggie could feel her body responding shamefully.

‘So, you let Guido fuck you as soon as my back was turned, did you?' he accused her. ‘Is that the kind of girl you are, Maggie? A dirty little slut who opens her legs to any man that comes along?'

What could she say? She felt sick with shame. There was no excuse for the way she'd behaved.

‘From now on I will be in control of who has you - who fucks you.' He sank three fingers into her, making her stiffen and suppress a sob. ‘And I will decide when you touch yourself and how you do it. You do touch yourself, don't you, Maggie?'

She closed her eyes and wished she could close her ears too, his words goading her.

‘Tell me,' he ordered.

‘Yes, master,' she admitted.

‘Yes master, what?' he pressed. Surely Max didn't really want her to explain. A finger pressed hard over her clit, making her whimper beneath the heady mixture of discomfort and pleasure. ‘Tell me, Maggie. Tell me.'

‘I - I like to touch myself,' she stammered.

‘Where do you like to touch, Maggie?' he interrogated. ‘Your nice tits? Your cunt?'

Maggie felt the heat of humiliation growing inside her. How on earth could she say the words aloud? In the front of the car Guido listened and waited, his eyes on the road as he drove.

‘Yes, master,' was all she could manage.

Max caught her clitoris tight between thumb and forefinger. ‘Don't try and be clever with me, young lady. Tell me, do you like to touch this?' His hand spread to cradle her sex.

‘Yes, master, I like to play with myself there,' she admitted meekly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Max nodded. ‘Good girl.'

She felt defeated and crushed and humiliated. Max pulled her to him and kissed her forehead. ‘Good girl,' he said again. ‘Now, as you like the woods so much I thought we might go for a little walk today. Just you and me.' He handed her her coat. ‘Put it on.'

Maggie looked at him inquisitively. Did he mean her to get dressed again? He smiled as if sensing her confusion, his voice as warm and personable as some older uncle taking his favourite niece out for the day. ‘Just put it on as you are - no need to get dressed again.'

Gratefully she pulled it over her nakedness, but before she could button it he added, ‘Leave it open, I want to look at you.' He carefully arranged the garment so that her body remained totally exposed to him, and then added to the bizarre quality of the journey by starting a conversation with her about her work at the magazine, and she found herself telling him about the project on gardens.

As time passed towns gave way to villages and villages gave way to countryside. Guido manoeuvred the car through the trees, along a track that led away from the winding road. The car drew to a halt in a small, leafy area that provided parking for picnickers and ramblers.

‘Get out,' he ordered her, and Maggie was about to protest when he added, ‘You may button your coat now, for the time being.'

She sighed with relief, for with her coat fastened and stockings on, no one would guess she was naked underneath; a little inappropriately dressed for a woodland stroll, perhaps, but certainly not naked.

Max caught hold of her hand. ‘Now, my dear,' he said, ‘let me show you one of my favourite places.'

They walked for a while through sun-drenched trees, talking about all manner of things, but just beneath the surface Maggie could feel her expectation and tension growing. There came a moment when silence fell and all she could hear was her pulse in her ears, a counterpoint to the gentle sounds of the woodland and nature.

Despite her coat she was very aware of her nakedness beneath, particularly every time a dog walker or courting couple ambled by, nodded and murmured politely and walked on.

At last Max headed off the main trail towards a thicket, stopped in a slight hollow and from behind a small bush produced several lengths of rope.

Maggie stared at him in astonishment. ‘What are you going to…?' she began, her voice tight with apprehension.

‘Take off your coat, Maggie,' was all he said.

As Max unwound the rope he watched her closely. It was interesting to watch her hesitation. She was torn between her desire, her fear, and a myriad other contradictory emotions. As if in slow motion she slipped her coat off, letting it fall to the ground. She stood very still in front of him, making no effort to cover herself, her nakedness emphasised beautifully by the trees.

As Max blindfolded her he could feel her trembling. He pressed the ball-gag into her mouth and then took hold of her wrists, feeling the tremor vibrate deliciously through her body. She looked magnificently vulnerable amongst their surroundings, her creamy skin a subtle contrast to the whispering canopy of green and gold. She looked like a delicate nymph.