I am never good with categories, or for that matter specific tags, it all just seems to wander off in different directions. Everything contained within these pages are works of complete fiction. The characters in this story are themselves entirely fictional. They do not exist, never have, and never will and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, whether by name or by description, is purely coincidental and unintentional.
The author does not condone behaviour like those exhibited within these pages other than in a world of pure fiction. When the term girl is used, it is a derogatory label, and everyone in this work of fiction is over eighteen.
However, all that said, this is just a story dragged up from the wild and violent tides of overthinking, which have taken a heavy toll; these thoughts dim the light and usher in the black dog that asks, 'What if?'
An Exquisite Pleasure
The end of the beginning.
Tabitha sat delicately perched on the gleaming white porcelain tiles that surrounded the pool. One foot was casually dangling in the still water, sending ripples that disturbed the reflections of the clear blue, cloudless sky. She waited patiently, her left hand gently clasping Niamh's right.
Beyond the edge of the pool lay the formal gardens, the summerhouse just visible beyond the extensive shrubbery. She was naked, her pale skin glistening with the sheen of sweat. Even at 24, her youthful appearance meant she still had to show proof of age in clubs and bars.
Her skin was smooth, pale and flawless, although the faint freckles that covered her chest became more pronounced when she was excited.
And at this very moment, she was extremely excited.
It was the curse of being a natural redhead and the subject of much teasing when she was younger.
Tabitha had never been happier or healthier, her slender arms now had well defined muscle definition, her flat stomach showed just a hint of her abs, her breasts had no sag and remained firm but soft to the touch. Her legs were muscular without being obvious.
Her once long red hair was closely cropped and her pale green eyes held a gleam of mischief and pleasure.
It was an idyllic scene, but one that would shock any reasonable onlooker.
Perhaps it would come as a shock, because in Tabitha's pretty little mouth was a shiny stainless steel bit, her head held securely in a leather bridle. The leather reins attached to the bridle were held carelessly in her Déesses left hand.
As was her equally naked lover and best friend, Niamh, where she was pale and soft, Niamh was dark olive, and full of hard edges. Niamh's breasts were smaller, and her nipples longer, thicker and, just like Tabitha's, pierced with golden rings. Her deep brown eyes gleamed like liquid pools of chocolate.
Perhaps the shock would be that her Déesse was dressed in a skin-tight black latex tube dress and in her right hand was a classic dressage whip with a solid silver cap at the top of the handle. The whip was light but devastatingly effective.
The deepest shock would undoubtedly come from the twelve evenly spaced, angry red welts running up the back of Tabitha's thighs and bottoms.
A testament to the effectiveness of the newly acquired dressage whip.
For the last five days she had been denied any pleasure, any relief or release, hoping but not demanding that today, she would be allowed the privilege of worshipping her Déesses cock with her mouth and welcoming the large phallus in her sex or bottom.
To serve her most perfect Déesse in any way demanded.
Tabitha understood completely her place and she no longer would question everything. Her world revolved around her Déesse and her obedience was absolute, she lacked the capacity to defy or to even question.
Her journey to this acceptance had been relatively short, although it took a lifetime in the making. She was simply content in the knowledge that her deepest and darkest self was in the ascendancy, and pleased beyond measure she could share her devotion to her Déesse with her oldest friend.
~~oOo~~
Six months earlier.
It was a pleasantly warm Friday morning, and The Countess Vivienne De Brett breathed deeply as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. She glanced at her reflection, pleased at her hard-won physique. Her exercise routine had produced well-defined muscles that hinted at unleashed strength. Every part of her body was now fit and taut, and she woke every morning feeling that she was bursting with energy. Her short blonde hair glowed with health, her skin flawless and wrinkle-free, the result of good breeding her Mother use to say, all the women in her family were known for their looks, which is why they married well.
At 29, she considered herself at her peak. Yesterday, she had interred her Father, and her correct address was now the Countess Vivienne De Brett. She was the last of the line, and her side of the family name would die with her.
She had just finished a five-mile run around the grounds and was considering a swim. In the last four years, since the motorcycle accident, she had taken up a rigorous exercise routine. The doctors said she would not walk again, but she laughed at them, proving them all wrong; she was a true De Brett and inherited the families iron will and unfailing belief in themselves and their abilities.
Her whole routine had to change following the accident; she exercised harder and longer and had reviewed all aspects of her life for the better. She was undoubtedly bolder and more decisive. She found that her attitude had changed; she was certainly more perceptive and much more assertive.
A polite cough interrupted her introspection, and she turned, noticing Tabitha, her Personal Assistant. She smiled at the young woman.
"A telephone call in the study from the police for you, Ma'am." Tabitha informed her politely.
~~oOo~~
Tabitha Bailey was enamoured. She had silently watched Lady Vivienne from the door. Her employer was dressed in a black sports bra and running shorts, her body glistening with sweat, and she looked amazing. Better than most of the young fitness models in the sports illustrated, she reads regularly.
Tabitha was acutely aware that she was finding it hard to concentrate. Even though the late Earl had employed her, Tabitha's loyalty and growing infatuation belonged to Lady Vivienne. She was beginning to have thoughts about a possible future, a new Mistress, and the thoughts excited her.
~~oOo~~
Vivienne replaced the receiver, her mind turning over the brief conversation. Why on earth would the local Police Chief Inspector want to see her?
She was confident. Her late Father's dedication to wealth and power ensured she was pretty much untouchable, and those in authority deferred to her. She knew she hadn't broken any laws and was more curious than concerned.
She called Tabitha into the study. "Tabitha, Chief Inspector Peres will arrive shortly, and I must freshen up first. Will you please ensure that coffee is supplied and I also think it best if you are present throughout our meeting."
"Yes, of course, Ma'am." Tabitha confirmed.
Thirty minutes later, Tabitha ushered the Chief Inspector into the study, leaving immediately to fetch a tray of coffee.
Vivienne walked around her desk, holding out her hand in welcome. The two women shook hands and exchanged greetings, Vivienne indicating they take a seat on the large, comfortable sofa.
Tabitha returned with the tray, poured the coffee, and took an armchair beside Vivienne.
Vivienne began, "How may I help you, Chief Inspector?"
"The Chief Constable requested I deal with this matter sensitively. Can I ask if you employ a maid named Millicent Butterworth?"
"Yes, I believe we do, Inspector."
The Inspector inclined her head, "Can I, therefore, ask if you have noticed anything that has gone missing, specifically an amount of silver cutlery?"
"To be honest, Inspector, I wouldn't notice, no, but we can check... Tabitha, please get in touch with Cook."
Tabitha was up before the sentence was finished. She picked up the house phone, speaking quietly to the Cook.
Sitting back down, she informed both women, "Cook said she would check and let you know."
They talked about inconsequential things until the door opened, and Judith Merrimen, Vivienne's friend and long-time Cook, entered. "Twelve items in total, Ma'am, three serving spoons. Five dessert spoons and four cake forks, all from the Princess Silver Set." Judith would always use the correct address form in company, but they were very good friends in private and used first names.
"I see. Thank you, Judith. Please come and join us as this concerns Millicent." Vivienne patted the sofa beside her. Judith sat next to Vivienne.
The Inspector cleared her throat, "Our burglary team have been watching an organised group, one of whom is a young woman named Sharon Grimes. She and your maid grew up together in the care of the Nuns from St Antony's. Last night, we arrested both women. Your maid was handing over the twelve items just mentioned. During the interview, once she had stopped crying, your maid confessed immediately, detailing where the items came from and how the Grimes woman had coerced her.
We tend to believe your maid has no links to the group other than Grimes, and this is the only time she has been involved, to our knowledge. Our information suggests she is telling the truth. Her statement will undoubtedly help to convict."
"I see, Inspector. Forgive me for the suggestion, but isn't this well below your authority?" Vivienne commented.
"Indeed, yes... The Chief Constable insisted, however, and he specifically instructed me to gather your thoughts on a way forward regarding Butterworth. The Grimes woman will undoubtedly get five years hard, but your maid is incidental. She has assisted us and, sadly, is probably too easily led. The truth is, she wouldn't fare well in prison. The Chief thought you may wish to keep the family name from the papers. Particularly in light of your recent bereavement."
