Perfection-08
Perfecton - Chapter Eight
- by xenaRRa
To Kelley without whom this would have remained only a dream.
All characters in this work are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
This work may not be reproduced in any form without the express permission of the author.
Copyright 1989 by K. Xenarra Brown.
- PERFECTION
- by Xenarra
Chapter Eight
Sitting beside the sleeping old man every day, Constance had time to sort out all that had transpired since she had arrived. Laura had eventually returned to the van and the remainder of the trip was uneventful. Upon her arrival, Constance was sent to wash and don a maid's uniform before she was officially presented to the man who held as tightly to life as he did to the inheritance the siblings each waited for. Though weeks had passed, the meeting with Uncle, as he was called, was still fresh in her mind.
He had been lying, propped to nearly sitting, on a massive, ornate bed. His wizened, eighty plus countenance was visible above the bedclothes, eyes wide and bright. The room was airy and cheerful, he seemed out of place. His cancer, and the treatments for it, had left his skin mottled, his head almost bald, and his body weak; so weak in fact, that when he spoke, his voice was barely audible.
"Come here so I can see you," he had said after Laura had led her into the room, then vanished quickly. "I guess you're the new one. You need not be frightened, I'm not exactly in a position to have my way with you." His dry voice rasped out a chuckle which soon led to spasms of coughing. She move closer immediately and supported his frail body until the fit passed.
Then she moved off the bed, remaining close enough to return quickly if the trouble began afresh.
His eyes passed over her body, lingering on her breasts and legs, both delineated fully in the brief costume. Involuntarily, Constance blushed and ducked her head. She was wearing more clothing than she had been allowed in many months, but somehow felt naked under his glance.
"Stand straighter, dear, and don't blush. You've a lovely body. I'm almost dead, but I'm still alive enough to appreciate beauty when I see it. I gather you've never done this kind of work before, uh, what did she say your name was?"
"Constance, sir," her voice was hesitant, "My name is Constance."
"Don't like that. Nope, don't like that at all. Too old fashioned for someone as young and pretty as you. If you're going to work for me, I get to call you whatever I want. That's one of the rights of having the gold I get to make the rules." He smiled a kind smile and reached for her hand. "I'm going to call you Sapphire. You are as beautiful as a jewel." Constance blushed again, but stood straighter as the new name began to intrude upon her subconscious behavior.
"So, Sapphire, I won't bother to ask you where my niece found you. No doubt in quite questionable circumstances if she's playing her usual, sleazy games. But never mind about where you've been, you're here now, and you can make a fresh start. I'm reasonably easy to live with, unless I've just had a treatment. They are very painful, and I tend to be a real bear until the pain subsides. Other than that, what would you like to know?"
Constance looked at the pale man almost hidden by the voluminous bedding. His eyes held no malice; in fact, for the first time since leaving her apartment, she felt comfortable. "What will I do here?" She asked.
"Just about everything I tell you," the old man wisecracked. He saw the seriousness of her question a moment later and continued. "I'm not exactly proud of the fact I'm incontinent." The blankness on her face stopped him, and he began again. "I have no bladder or bowel control. You have to clean me up." Constance tried not to let the disgust she felt show. "It isn't a pretty job. That's why Laura and Richard don't want any part of caring for me. The rest of the job's pretty easy. Shave and bathe me once a day, feed me, read to me, keep me company so I won't become a few cards shy of a full deck and change my will to benefit that female Attila the Hun before I die. It may not be a fun job, but you'll get your room and meals, so maybe you'll stay longer than the others. I seem to have a terrible time keeping help. Just when I get one broken in, she disappears. Then I'm treated to a few fun filled days of Laura before a new girl comes. It hasn't been much fun."
"And now, I'm tired. And I've managed to do in the bedclothes again I can feel it. There are more sheets in the cabinet. Why don't you just jump right in and see if you can get me cleaned up. Then I'll take a nap and you can too, if you want."
Constance nodded and went about the distasteful business of setting the invalid right again. But it was less obnoxious than that first day with Seth. Looking back, Constance realize that this dying man who had every right to be demanding and mean spirited, had instead treated her like a person, someone with feelings. His compliments had been honest, his manner direct. Perhaps here was someone she could trust.
She stayed with him until late into the night. When he had finally settled down for the night, she headed quietly back to her appointed room when a voice from a room to her right commanded her to enter. Inside she found Richard, resplendent in a short, black, silk robe. Noticing his bedroom eyes, Constance cringed inwardly. She was far too tired, physically and emotionally, for a romp in the sheets.
"Come in, come over here by me," he motioned. "I'm not dangerous. I've been waiting all day to see you. Where were you?"
"I've been with your uncle, nursing him. That's pretty hard work, you know. He's a lot more difficult to move around than he looks." Constance had crossed the ornately furnished room and was now standing an arm's length away from the well tanned, handsome man. She was close enough to smell the spicy fragrance of his aftershave mingled with his own, natural smells. She could now see the dark hair on his arms, chest and legs. It matched that on his head both in color and thickness. He wore no jewelry, but his gray eyes jumped off his face, wide and eager. His mouth was turned up in a slight half grin. The total result was stunning against the black of the robe.
She started to speak again, but he reached out and pressed a finger to her lips, then drew her close in a hungry embrace. His lips were firm and dry against hers; then he teased her mouth open with his tongue and dove in as if he were penetrating a much different portion of her anatomy. The unexpectedness of the act took her breath away. Despite her initial feelings, Constance felt her belly begin an all too familiar dance which would certainly end with her jerking at the strings of yet another puppeteer.
He released her, turned and closed the door, then took her to the side of the bed where they sat down.
"Let me tell you how it is here, and how to survive. Don't say a word, just listen." Constance looked up, watching his face, trying to memorize every word. "This house is run by two people struggling for power, my sister and my uncle. My uncle wants to retain control of everything until the day he dies. He is definitely dying, but goes into remission at the most inconvenient times. Inconvenient, at least, for my darling older sister. Every time she sure she's got the old boy ready to sign a will, he recovers enough to tear the thing up. Drive her batty and keeps the fight in him."
"So where, you may well ask, does a little brother, little nephew fit in?" She lowered his eyes and nodded. He threw back his head and exploded into laughter. "Laura doesn't have to get him to sign a will, I did that years ago. He and I have the only copies. And I'm the sole heir listed. Nothing, absolutely nothing goes to my sister." He laughed again, the sound of his roar filling the room.
When he finally quieted down, Constance looked up from where she had been tracing the bedspread's pattern with her fingers. "I don't understand why you let her boss you around. Why don't you just come out and tell her what's going to happen, then throw her out?"
"I don't want to kill the proverbial goose that's laying those wonderful eggs," he responded. Her puzzled look forced him to continue. "With Laura in charge, I get to be the bad little brother. I'm allowed my little flings with just about anyone I want. I can gamble, drive sports cars, and generally be a pain in the ass to everyone. And no one can touch me I'm Uncle's nephew, I might come into money. But I don't have to take any responsibility for my actions Laura does it for me. She's just enough afraid that she won't be an heir that she spends a good deal of time smoothing over the bumps I create. It wouldn't pay to have little brother mad at you if he controlled all the money."
"And what do I have to do? Only what I really enjoy doing anyway. Raising enough hell to keep Laura as busy and out of Uncle's hair as much as possible. For that, I have a six figure income to play with and absolutely no worries. And its so much fun to torment her. Truthfully, I spend hours trying to come up with new ways to annoy her. Take yourself, for example."
Constance looked up again, surprised. "I knew that if Laura caught me with another servant, she'd blow her top. But fucking someone else's servant, that's a different story." As he spoke, he began running his hands over her overexposed thighs, following them to within inches of her crotch, then sliding them back down. "When I caught a glimpse of you through the window, I thought: 'Fucking her would really frost dear sis.' So I went for it, or rather, for you. It really surprised me when Laura demanded we take you back with us. I guess she figured to cut her losses and keep the scandal in the family. And she obviously counted upon your servicing her as part of the package." His fingers began to roam more freely over her breast, belly and buttocks. When she tried to push away, he took her two hands in one of his and held them firmly, pulling her even closer to him.
"Don't you think you might owe me a little something for this afternoon? You seemed pretty grateful at the time."
"No, not here, not you. I don't have to do that anymore," she replied, her voice. She drew herself into a ball, crossing her legs at the knee, rolling her shoulders forward. "You don't know anything about me. I'm not like that anymore."
He gripped her hands more tightly, his free hand sliding between her legs, compelling her to open herself. Then, abruptly, he removed his hand, and reached to pick up two objects which had been hidden from her view. "Maybe I know more than you dreamed possible," he said as he dropped a high leather collar and matching cuffs into view. "You see, I wasn't exactly unhappy that dear sister brought you home. You were well used at Seth's I'm sure you must have learned a useful trick or two. And the fact that you were displayed and used tells me that you are a woman who is happiest in chains. Why don't you tell me what you are?"
"No, I won't. I'm not like that anymore." Her voice rose octaves as he clamped the cuffs on her hands and fastened the collar on her neck. He maneuvered her off the bed and into a kneeling position on the floor as easily as if she had been a sleepy child. His strong, sure motions made her doubt her own ability to resist and left her muscles like jello. Wordlessly he endured her unstoppable stream of denials as he disrobed her slowly, piece by piece, until finally she was completely nude before him.
"Better," he said, "but you're too noisy." He slipped the tie from his dressing gown and wrapped it several times around her head before fastening it tightly, its silken fabric folded effectively inside her mouth, preventing speech. "Now, that's an improvement. Let's get your hands back here where they belong." He adjusted the cuffs so her hands were behind her back, her fingers resting on her bottom. "Spread you legs wider, like so." He positioned her legs, exposing her completely. "Now arch your back, and show those tits." A thumb pressed firmly on her back, running the length of her spine, bringing her chest and shoulders up, showing off her natural assets.
"I knew you were a slave the moment I saw you. It wasn't the chains, it was the way you followed Seth with your eyes and paid no attention to me. You looked to him for help and support, even when he made you do things you really didn't like. You did them because He told you to. Because he was your Master, and you were his property. You may be free from actual, physical chains; but you will bond yourself to a man, hang on his every word, do his bidding no matter how outrageous, because you are basically a slave. I'm right, aren't I?" Constance tried to look away but Richard's riveting glance held her.
"You are such a woman, aren't you? You are a slave?" As he repeated those words, Constance lunged away. Unable to deny his charge, she tried to run from the words. But her sudden spring for freedom only landed her on her side. Richard righted her, spreading her more completely, and began to fondle and pinch her nipples. His unbelted dressing gown had fallen open, revealing a growing erection. Constance was able to do little more than watch as this skilled man reached down and raised her to stand before him. Powerful hands separated her thighs, strong thumbs pressing her apart.
"Close your eyes. Don't open them and don't move your legs. Concentrate on the sound of my voice and the touch of my hands. The only thing you can truly give is your Passion, and you will give that to me tonight. This is not as simple as it may sound. I don't want one of those earth shattering, faked orgasms you do so well. You will hang on to your Passion, letting it build in my hands, until I tell you to release." He took her by the hair and began to nod her head. "Nod if you understand." She struggled and ground her teeth in fury as she tried to shake her head free from Richard's powerful grip. But all her efforts earned her nothing. "Good," he continued, "I'm glad to see you so cooperative."
As if she had been in perfect agreement, his hands began a careful dance over her body. Constance kept her eyes tightly closed, much as small children do when they don't wish to be seen. Richard's hands moved like butterflies, landing randomly to brush, test, and tantalize her.
"These are your Master's hands. Focus only on them, and on the wet, soft spot between your legs."
As he spoke, he gave words to the feelings he had begun to arouse in her. Then he began tracing light lines from her chin, past the collar, to her shoulders. The lines moved lower, and he began circling her breasts. They swelled and rose to join the dance as his hands moved ever closer, but always stayed a hair's breadth away from actually touching them, from actually satisfying her aching need. Desire began to build in her body. Her nipples became hardened as his fingers traced circles around her tender breasts again and again. Unbidden, her chest rose up toward his hands, her Master's hands, imploring them to touch, to stroke, to caress her. But even as she rose toward him, his hands moved lower, now dipping into her navel, now fingering her belly.
He marked her with invisible clockwise circles, his finger both white hot and ice cold as it stroked her. Accordingly, the desire which had filled her breasts expanded downward. Every cell of her belly ached for his touch. Again she arched toward him, and again, at her response, the hands, her Master's hands, moved lower to awaken her thighs. Along the outside, fingertips ran to her knees and behind, stroking and teasing this sensitive spot; then upward, now fingernails, lightly scraping their way up her inner thighs, stopping just short of the soft mound directly above her clit. The sound of her own raspy breathing against the gag filled her ears. She rocked forward slightly as his nails traced the line where her thighs met her torso so delicate, so sensitive, so alive at his touch. Her breasts swelled even more in response, nipples hardened to pebbles, fire in her belly growing ever more intense. Her buttocks began to tighten rhythmically and, at her motion, the hands descended further.
Strong, powerful hands began kneading the muscles in her calves, muscles which had tightened a bit more each time he had ignited a new spark until they were now as taut as bowstrings. The tensions left under her Master's hands, but only after those hands had caused and dissipated the quick, sharp, hot pain in each cramped leg. Taking first one, then the other foot into his hands, he rubbed away the soreness there, too; bright spots of pain dulled and removed. The pressures on her foot brought first her skin, then her scalp to life. Every fiber tingled though he had touched only her feet. She wanted to thank him, to beg him not to stop; but she forced her lips to remain closed, afraid to break the spell, afraid to lose his touch.
His hands snaked upward, but this time Constance sensed a difference. Those hands, her Master's hands, were now somehow more commanding, more demanding. They traced her lips, and a thumb slipped into her mouth. At first she was stunned, then, recovering, darted her tongue over and around it, sucking hard at the knuckle. She tried to imagine what sucking his cock would be like as she licked and caressed that thumb.
Too soon it was gone and the hands had moved to circle and pet her ears. Constance had begun to relax toward her Master, all thought wiped away, when Richard took an earlobe in each hand between his thumb and forefinger and pinched her very suddenly, very hard. The intensity of the pain brought new life to the burning fire in her breasts and belly. Her clit now burned too, burned intensely, her body's juices beginning to spill over and collect at her cunt lips. A small moan escaped her gag, her buttocks tensing again, hips undulating lightly backwards and forwards. Once, twice more the pain. And when there was no pain, delicious pleasure steaming through her veins, matching the fire which continued to mount in her breasts, belly and clit. She struggled to stand still, warring with her natural need for release, yet powerless to achieve it. Unable to move, to touch herself, she understood what it meant to be in the power of her Master's hands.
His hands kneaded her shoulders roughly, squeezing the last drops of resistance from her. She was totally his, her body merely the instrument he chose to play. The Master's hands moved again, this time grasping the swelling breasts she thrust toward him, stroking them downward toward their tips, then catching and hanging on the nipples. He crushed the hot stones between his fingers. His hands pulsed, first delivering pain, then pleasure, pulsing, never pausing, never allowing her release, merely building her inner flame until she could not tell if his touch was painful or pleasant. It no longer mattered. All that existed was the touch of his hands and her aroused, animal body.
She rocked back and forth, raising up on her toes but never daring to move her feet, her hips writhing as his hands moved from her breasts to her backside, stroking and grasping them, opening her anus to his touch. She moaned again, louder this time, and tried to pull from his prying hands. Richard, her Master, withdrew his touch; and, realizing her error, she leaned again toward him, willing to submit to anything to keep his hands on her body. Constance had displeased her Master, however, and when his hands returned to her body, it was to deliver sharp, stinging slaps to her backside.
But rather than relieve her desire, the spanking his hands delivered intensified her longing. Release was surely close now, and Constance's began jerking forward, trying to force her Master to finish. But it was not her will or desires he was interested in satisfying. "Wait." The single word hung in the air. She knew he would control her, removing his hands when necessary to slow the building of her need. Silently, she sobbed with frustration.
Taking her by the shoulders, Richard spun Constance around and back onto the bed. She sighed with relief: Now she could work her body against the bed instead of trying to stand completely still. His hands slid behind her and removed her cuffs, then refastened her hands together in front. Clasping her by the ankles, he brought her legs up, knees wide apart, until she could hold her feet with her hands. Her Master then left her in that most awkward and exposed position while he slipped his head down and pulled the petals of her sex apart with his most knowledgeable fingers.
It was all Constance could do to retain her grip on her feet as her Master began to give her a tongue bath. First he toyed with her, sliding around and around, but never touching her clit. Then suddenly he was on it, vibrating it back and forth more quickly than a hummingbird's wings. Her hips again moved of their own accord, but now in this position, it was only her legs which could respond, trying to open still wider. His devilish hands were as busy as his mouth, reaching up to flick and pinch her nipples, helping her spread her legs ever wider.
Her movements grew wilder, second by second. He brought her to the edge of her climax, then removed his mouth and blew cool air over her clit, removing the immediate need but deepening the ever growing desire in her belly. Time and again he teased her close to the pinnacle, then backed off. Finally he stood, and she whimpered, sure he was going to leave her unfulfilled. He surveyed her body: nether lips ripe and full of juices, breasts swollen with rock hard nipples straining upward, exposed, pleading, his.
With one swift movement he took hold of a nipple, crushing it while sliding two thick fingers into her slippery wet vagina. He pumped the fingers rapidly for moments that seemed hours. She longed for release but knew she must wait. The pain in her nipples and that of holding back melded with the pleasure of his thrusts until they were one and the same. It seemed impossible, but the thrusting came more quickly, penetrated deeper as he led her still closer to that knife's blade edge. His thumb jutted out, startling her clit and the fingers sank to her core, touching a spot no one had ever found. His biting touch on her nipple, the soreness of her backside against the sheets, the rasping of his thumb, and the depth of his thrusts left her breathless, unable to think.
"Now!" came the command and without any thought, she came. Her hips bucked against his hand, riding him as she would a cock. Again and again her body convulsed, the pain/pleasure of the release flushing her red from tip to toe. Grateful for ankles to clasp, she strained her whole being upward. Fluids dripped from her sopping pussy, the fingers within wringing the last drop of strength from her. At long last her body fell heavily back onto the bed. No longer able to hold her own legs, she dropped her useless hands to her sides, her passion completely spent. He reached up and removed his tie from her mouth.
"Master!" she breathed. "I am your slave under your hands."
He looked at her face now awash with new lust, and smiled. A jagged voice split the silence: "Whose what are you?"
Richard glanced up indolently at his sister who had entered the room and was now towering over the bed. "She said she was my slave, sister dear. You've had a few yourself you should recognize a slave devoted to her Master."
Laura's hands balled in fury. "You seem to have forgotten who saved you from the kennels, slut, and who is in charge in this house. Get out of that bed immediately!" Laura's voice had risen in her anger until it was almost a shriek. She reached roughly for Constance, but Constance clung to Richard and began to whimper.
"Better go, love," Richard said as he pushed his charge into his sister's waiting hands. "I really think you're unfair, Laura," he continued as easily unconcerned about Constance's fate as he might have been about a shoe he had removed. "I'm not as good at this game, and you take away my only practice toy. How am I ever supposed to get better if I don't get a chance to practice? You're just not fair."
Had Constance been able to see Richard's face she would have realized the words were only an act. It was not transparent to his sister, however, who smiled a tight smile at his obvious compliment. She had brought Constance to her hands and knees, one long nailed hand forcing her head to the floor, the other opening and probing her hot, wet sex. "You certainly did warm her up for me, Richard. Perhaps you are becoming skilled in arousing slaves. You have saved me a great deal of time with this one tonight. I think it is time you had some formal instruction on the topic. From now on, Constance will come directly to this room after her duties with Uncle. On certain days you will be here and I will tutor you in the pleasures of using slaves fully. Other days she will just wait. She will learn to wait upon my pleasure for her fulfillment. She will learn to be selfless and giving, instead of the selfish brat she is now."
"You are a hot slave and must serve me well or suffer punishment." Laura directed her words at Constance. Feeling the fingers probe inside her cunt, then rub the thick liquid of her own come into her clit, Constance became aroused afresh. But when she leaned back into that hand, hungering for its touch, Laura removed her fingers and held them to Constance's mouth. "Lick my fingers. Taste your own pussy. In a minute you will be tasting mine." Constance worked the fingers in her mouth with her tongue, desperate to remove the last drops. "Very good. You are a hungry, hot slave who thinks only of pleasing her cunt. What are you?" the woman's voice demanded.
"I am a hungry, hot slave who thinks only of pleasing my cunt," Constance repeated, burning with shame at the truth of the words.
"But we're going to change that tonight. When I finish with you, you will be too worn to spread your legs, and you will have satisfied me utterly. How do I know this? Because now I'm going to give you a taste of what would happen if you ever displease me again like you have tonight."
Fearfully, frantically hoping for a reprieve, Constance begged, "But what have I done wrong?"
"This little tight ass" Laura answered, landing a smack on Constance's backside, "swung too temptingly in front of my brother. These tits," she said, pinching and squeezing Constance's breasts, "made offers no man could refuse. Oh, yes, I know exactly how your need made you like a bitch in heat. You would have coupled with anyone. Isn't that true?"
"Yes, Mistress." The pause hung in the air, compelling Constance to continue. "I would have fucked anyone."
"So, you must be punished. You must learn to control those wretched hips and tits." She turned to her brother. "You never get pleasure, Richard. Well, tonight will be the exception to the rule. Stand up over here and spread your cheeks. This slave is going to clean your ass hole and give you a blow job while I remind her who is in charge."
Constance was lifted from her hands and made to kneel facing Richard's backside. He was slightly bent over, his hands spreading his cheeks wide, exposing the dark rose of his anus. Laura pushed her face forward, and Constance found herself nose deep between Richard's buttocks. She felt as if she would fall and grabbed one of his furry legs for support. The thick hair felt good under her hands and she rubbed them up and down the leg, hoping against hope to distract him so she would not have to lick his warmth, to clean him so intimately.
But her fears were realized with the first smack against her own tender ass. Her mouth responded without further command, cleansing him from stem to stern. But the spanking continued as she worked away. After ages, Richard turned and presented his balls and penis. She licked and sucked more frantically now, both from the need to please and from the need which had again grown in her belly under the continuing slaps of her Mistress' hands. Richard began to moan as his cock stiffened and balls grew hard. With his groaning, Laura changed from her hand to a stout belt, now lashing Constance's legs and buttocks, then flipping it between the widely spread legs to land with a wet smack on her tender clit.
When at last Richard came in her mouth, she shivered and swallowed his come, licking the last drops from him. The spanking stopped and her head was brought around and shoved between Laura's waiting legs. "Now the selfish slave may please me," the Mistress said, holding Constance's hair tightly in place. Once again Constance's tongue sought to please, sought to find the most sensitive parts and work them until Laura came. Laura rode her face, and juices filled Constance's mouth. Then at a gesture from the Mistress, Constance felt cream being rubbed into her sore backside, first intensifying the pain, then relieving it but intensifying the need in her hungry belly, her swollen breasts.
"Fuck her in the ass, but don't let her come." Laura ordered as she ground her pussy against Constance. Richard immediately slid a lubricated finger within her anus to ease the passage, then knelt behind her and pushed his cock against her. As he entered her, she felt as though she would split in two. The pain was terrible, his cock inching further and further inside her, then easing slowly back out. After a time, however, the brightness of the pain dulled and Constance began to enjoy the sensation of his swollen dick inside her, rubbing her core, opening and penetrating her more fully than a cock had ever spread her cunt.
The thrusts of both siblings became more rapid as both neared a climax. Laura came first, hot fluids filling Constance's mouth. Then just as Richard was about to come, and bring Constance with him, Laura slapped her face once, hard. "Don't you dare satisfy yourself, slave." Those few words caused Constance to bury the passion in her belly as Richard came in long spurts, pumping her full of his warmth. She did not dare relieve herself but could not control the writhing of her hips.
Richard and Laura both withdrew and stood before her crouched naked body, moaning from the force of her unsatisfiable need. "You are good, sister dear." Richard said, his voice full of admiration. "What are you, slave?"
"Just a slave full of need, Master. Please!" she implored him. They both laughed at her, ridiculing the very passions they had aroused.
"Now, Richard, take her up to her room and secure her face up, ankles wide apart. I don't want her to have any respite from that ache between her legs for many days. She will learn to please and give before getting her own satisfaction."
And so Constance had been bound hand and foot that night, and every night that followed. Some nights the punishments were so great she could barely walk the next day. Then she would be totally ignored for days on end. Eventually she began to crave the time with her tormentors more than that she spent alone. If only they would allow her some release.
The old man stirred a bit, and brought Constance out of her remembrance. She was seated, knees wide apart as ordered, on the edge of the chair. To slide back at all would have been torture on her bottom, freshly beaten the night before. She moved a bit and fresh tears sprung to her eyes. She looked up and saw the old man watching her closely.
"What's wrong, Sapphire? Why are you crying? Have I treated you badly?"
"No, no, you've been wonderful to me." She tried to stop the salty flow, but instead, it increased.
"Then tell me right now what's been going on. I've noticed something not quite right for a long time."
"I can't talk about it. It's ok, really."
"No, it's not ok. Someone or something is making the best nurse I've even had so upset she's crying. And I demand to know what is going on. I am still in charge here. Tell me." His voice had grown stronger as his words grew more intense. And so she told him everything. Every minute detail of the hell her life had become, her acceptance of her slavery, the burning need between her legs. The old man listened quietly, interrupting only to calm her or to ask a question. She talked on and on, but finally, exhausted, she stopped. He did not respond, but looked far away. Constance grew afraid, she should not have opened up to him. It would be a thousand times worse now.
He then motioned her to him. His hand slowly reached forward, then lifting her skirts, he touched and rubbed her pebble hard clit. It was only moments before the pent up need within her broke free and carried her on a flood of climaxes. Her body arched against his hand, her longing finally released. She continued to rock on his skilled hand for moments which seemed like hours. At last she relaxed and his hand slipped from her. She was about to collapse into a chair when he motioned her to turn her back to him. When she did, he lifted her skirts and let out a long whistle at the picture of half healed and fresh welts and bruises before him. "What do you want?" he asked gently.
"I don't know. I can't stand this much longer. But quite honestly, I am a slave. I know I need to be mastered to be happy. I'm not sure I could make it on my own. I guess I'll have to stay here." Constance finished resignedly.
"You cannot stay here any longer. I am going to get you out of here." New strength flowed in his old veins as righteous indignation filled him. "Richard and Laura are away, yes?" Constance nodded. "Good. Much as I like you girl, you're leaving today. Now go to your room and remain there until I ring for you. Then go down to the garage. A man with a car will come and take you to a safe place. You can stay with him, he's always wanted a willing sex slave, or you can go off on your own. But you cannot stay here. I simply won't allow this to continue. Now go." The finality of his words propelled her from the room, her body moving despite her growing fears.
The wait was terrible, it seemed forever before the welcome tinkle of the bell sounded. Constance slipped down the stairs and out the back door. She ran breathlessly for the garage. There was no car there. She looked wildly about, trying to decide to wait or to return to the house. But even as she was about to leave, a small gray car pulled up, the middle aged man inside motioning her to climb in. She did and they roared off in a cloud of dust, passing on their way down the lane, the van with Richard and Laura inside.
From the terrifying expression on Laura's face, it was obvious that she had recognized Constance in the vehicle that passed them. As Constance turned to look, she could see the van swerve to attempt pursuit, but slide, instead, into the ditch. Constance turned forward again, a self satisfied smile on her face. Then the fearful realization hit her: She had no idea what new fire she had jumped into.
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