Spirits Broen

Clare stopped and stretched. Reaching for her tea mug, Clare realised that it was dark. It seemed like only ten minutes since she had said good night to everyone else but as she drank some tea she pulled a face because it was cold. She glanced at the clock on her computer; it was 7:15.

Then it struck her that she was going to be late for her phone call from her master. Master was ringing her at 7:30 and she knew that it took 15 minutes to get home from the car park.

Clare dropped her mug and grabbed her bag, quickly saved her work, and ran through the building. She was glad of the practicality of her works insistence on sensible shoes as she raced through the building and down the stairs. She knew there was no point in waiting for the lift it took too long. ‘What a time to think about shoes, silly cow’ she thought to herself as she swiped herself through the security door.

Running breathlessly to her car, she fumbled in her bag for the key and pressed the button for the central locking. Throwing the bag on the passenger seat she started the car glad that only a few weeks ago she had traded in her unreliable old Fiesta which probably wouldn’t have started for her new company car.

Clare prayed that the traffic would be light and the lights wouldn’t delay her on her way home, it had taken her too long to get to the car. Above all else she hoped that the police would not be around. Reaching the main road, Clare raced along the familiar route to her house. Getting caught speeding would mean the end of her job but Clare had only one thought on her mind and that was to get home before the call came.

It was 7:25, only five minutes to go and still only just over half way home. Clare threw all caution to the wind and floored the accelerator.

“Bloody lights, come on change, CHANGE!!” she screamed as she approached a red light. Without a further thought, Clare burst through the lights with only a quick glance to left and right hoping and praying that nothing was coming. Her luck held, the traffic that usually would have made this journey hell was already gone.

She turned into her road and drove straight into the drive of her house barely stopping before she hit the garage door. As she threw open the door of the car Clare could hear the phone ringing, she emptied the contents of her bag on the car seat to find her house key. Grabbing it, Clare dashed for the door and fumbled, for what seemed ages, trying to get the key in the lock. She was shaking so hard, because of her panic.

Eventually the key slid in and the door was open. Clare grabbed the phone and knelt, breathing heavily, trying to regain her composure. She listened, ready to greet her Master, only to hear the dialling tone.

Clare wept in disappointment. She was exhausted, the panic and the race across town had stretched her emotions to the limit. Missing the call had taken her over the top. She knew now that she must wait for the next call right where she was.

“If I miss that one too… no, no, I mustn’t think of that” she thought out loud to herself.

Clare knew her master wouldn’t ring straight away, Master never did, she ruefully thought. So she had five minutes at least to sort herself out before returning to her vigil by the phone.

She walked out to her car and gathered up her belongings from the car and the driveway and then locked it, knowing that she wasn’t going to need it until Monday.

Closing the door behind her, Clare dropped her bag on the floor and removed her shoes. Then she knelt, just watching the phone waiting for it to ring. This time, Clare knew she must answer the very instant it rang. For her master would only allow it to ring once before hanging up.

As the time passed, Clare began to think back on her relationship with her master. She found it very difficult to remember a time when her master wasn’t a part of her life, although it had only been for a year.

Clare thought back to the first time they had met. It was at an office party the Christmas before last, when she had drunk one or two too many and had been offered a lift home there was a hug at the door as a thank you and then an offer of a coffee.

Clare never knew what was the trigger that suggested to her master that she was a submissive. At work, there was no one able to strike a harder bargain or more determined to succeed. Clare’s’ rise through the business had been meteoric and infamous. That party, as far as she knew, was the only place her master had seen her. Clare didn’t think it was at the gym or at the pub that she and her girlfriends frequented.

Then Clare thought back to her time before that party, when her life revolved around Bob, her husband. Since he had started working abroad her life had been an endless joy. Bob was OK. Bob was steady, but Bob was also boring. He only talked about his work and never asked how her day had been or what she had done. It was almost as if she didn’t exist except to feed him and keep house for him. In the end it was this lack of a life that had driven Clare to look for a job.

Then this stranger walked into her life whilst Bob was abroad and, ‘Just, just… took over total control of me, my life and, and…my body’.

Clare started to cry as the depth of love she felt for her master swept over her.

“Bastard, even when you aren’t here you make me cry.” she said with a smile while brushing her tears away.

While she knelt Clare thought about the time they had spent together. As always, her thoughts returned to that first time it had been at home after the party and hadn’t lasted long at all. The feelings she had were so intense but, Clare realised, she’d had no control over them. They were imposed by this stranger who had walked into her life.

It had all started harmlessly as they had talked, and there was a simple and innocent request to move over to the sofa. Then the hands explored her face in soft caresses before moving down her blouse to her breasts. Gently, they undid the buttons before fully encompassing them and sensually squeezing them. Clare had felt helpless under these erotic ministrations and allowed a quiet moan to escape her lips. She knew that this shouldn’t be happening, but the drink and the effect of the hands prevented her from resisting.

Then it stopped, as suddenly as it had started, leaving Clare with a feeling of emptiness, frustration and lust for this stranger. Clare mused long and hard over that first night her mind wandering over that brief time and then her mind suddenly came back to the present when the phone suddenly rang.

She snatched it up and breathlessly recited her formal greeting. “Master, your woman is here for your pleasure and service”. Clare listened, there was nothing at first and then a couple of clicks and a voice said “Is that Mrs Carlton?”

Clare was taken aback and a bit embarrassed that she had given her greeting to a stranger, she hoped that he hadn’t heard it. “Yes” she replied.

“Hello Mrs Carlton, my name is Carl Roberts, from Paron Windows and we are looking for a show home in your area…”. Clare was stunned, ‘who is this idiot’ she thought to herself as he rambled on about windows and doors.

“No, we don’t want anything, thanks” she replied. As usual, he persisted going on about guttering and fascias. Clare blurted out in frustration “Listen carefully, we don’t want anything!!!. Is that too difficult to understand?” and slammed down the phone.

The thought that her master had phoned during that bloody call crossed Clares’ mind but she knew if that was the case that the call would come almost immediately. Anxiously she waited, just in case.

Clare woke up with a start, her left leg was killing her, she had cramp in her calf and it was agony. She got up to stretch her leg muscles and glanced at her watch, it was 11pm. Her master had never made her wait this long, this was so rare she began to worry that it was over, she’d been told not to miss the call and that it was probably the most important one of their relationship. She wondered if it was over because she had missed the call, her master was very intolerant of failure. Clares’ frequent whippings had proven testimony to her inability to achieve the high standards expected of her and each failure seemed to hurt her more than the whippings had. With a sly smile to herself, she admitted that occasionally she had failed just to gain the closeness of contact that she desired.

The phone rang, Clare grabbed it, repeated her greeting and waited. This time there were no clicks but just silence. This was it. This was the call she was waiting for. After what seemed ages her master spoke to her.

“You missed the call” the soft tones purred.

“I’m s.s..sorry Master, I was working late at the office a..a..and forgot the time”. Clare stammered.

“Tonight was going to be a special night, and now, because of your failure, you have missed it. Now listen carefully, you will follow these instructions to the letter, any variation and you will receive severe punishment for failing again.”

It was all Clare could do to respond and confirm that she understood what she had been told. The punishments she had received before had pushed her to her limits and way beyond. Having been told that any punishments would be more severe shook Clare to the core. Surely she couldn’t take any more.

“CLARE!!!!” the voice shouted.

“Yes, Master?” , Clare responded, realising that she had taken the handset from her ear.

“You will leave your house in 15 minutes. You will wear the red lingerie that you will find on your bed and the coat that is next to it. You will drive to the services on the M40, where you will wait in your car. Make sure you have your mobile switched on.”

Before Clare could answer the call ended. She replaced the handset and looked at her watch. It was 11:10pm but Clare had no idea how much time she had to get to the services. Normally it took about 35 minutes. Clare mused over that. “Midnight….how precise a timing that would be.

Clare climbed the stairs to her bedroom and looked at the clothes that were on the bed. She didn’t recognise the clothes and, rather shaken, realised that someone had been in her house while she was at work. “How did Master get a key?”.

Stripping her work clothes off slowly, Clare briefly stood in front of the mirror naked admiring her shapely body. At 5ft 8, her size 10 body was perfectly proportioned and tanned all over. The tan emphasised her long blond hair and jade green eyes and her love of heels and shorter skirts highlighted her legs. The gym had definitely been a good idea and one she knew her master approved of. Clare pulled on the lacy red knickers and bra, followed by the red, lace topped hold ups. Clare’s master had never been fond of stockings and suspenders, ‘too much to get in the way’ was always the response when Clare mentioned the subject.

Clare picked up the coat that had been neatly folded on the bed. Holding it up she realised that it wouldn’t cover the top of the hold ups. Putting it on Clare looked in the mirror again and tried, without success, to pull the coat down further to cover the tops of the hold ups. The shoes were high heels and black. Clare slid her feet into them and realised that the heels were even higher than the 5” ones in her wardrobe.

“Time to go” Clare said to herself, noting the time. She walked down the stairs carefully and with great difficulty in the heels. Then, taking her house and car keys and phone, walked out to the car and slid into the seat trying to keep herself covered as much as possible. She knew not to take anything else, somehow her master always knew if she had taken more than she was ordered to with her.

Clare reversed the car out of the drive and then drove towards the motorway. Clare smiled to herself as she pulled into the car park. It was 11:58pm, two minutes to spare.

Pulling into a space near to the main entrance Clare waited, conscious of her lack of clothes and the brightness of the lights. A couple of lorry drivers walked by and briefly glanced at the car. One of them looked directly at Clare and as he walked by looked again, nudging his mate and seemingly made some lewd remark. Clare held her breath hoping that they would walk off. She watched them in her mirrors as they walked off towards the lorry park and then let go the breath in relief.

The car clock clicked over to 12:00, immediately Clares mobile bleeped making her jump. She read the message, ‘Open the door and meet your escorts’.

Clare opened the door and the two lorry drivers stood there. One took her by the arm and roughly pulled her from the car. Stumbling as she was pulled out, Clare felt hands all over her body. Before she realised it, her ankles were shackled and her hands were pulled behind her back and handcuffed before a collar was placed tightly around her neck and the handcuffs attached to the collar pulling them higher up her back. Clares’ mouth was forced open and stuffed full of a coarse material. She was then half carried, half dragged to a waiting lorry where she was placed on the back of its flat bed.

Clare stared up at the night sky aware that, apart from her underwear and the height of the lorry, she was visible and almost naked to anyone driving past, as the coat buttons had been undone before she was put into the lorry. Fortunately the sides of the lorry protected Clare from the wind and it was still quite hot, despite the lateness of the hour.

The lorry stopped with a jerk, waking the sleeping woman in the back. Clare tried to move to see where they were but her bonds were too tight. All she knew was that it was daylight. After what seemed ages, the back panel of the lorry dropped down and Clare tried to look but her head was immediately covered. The only sense left to Clare was her ears. Listening intently she heard the cry of birds. Was that seagulls she could hear? That meant she could be on almost any coast, anywhere. It was still quite warm though, so she guessed it was the south of England.

Clare was gently lifted from the back of the lorry and then carried down a slope. At the bottom she was placed on her feet and steadied. She stood, unsure of what to expect next. The anticipation that her master was there watching her, made her totally unsure of what to expect next and sent Clares senses souring. Her breathing became shorter and her chest tight as she waited, her ears straining for any sign of what was to come. Then she felt an upward pull on her wrists, stretching her onto the tips of her toes until she was totally unable to move.

All of a sudden she felt the hot sting of a cane across her buttocks, followed by another. Each stroke seemed to tear into her cheeks and get harder until the pain was unbearable. Searing into her ripe flesh like a burning iron. Stroke after stroke, all expertly placed each one just slightly overlapping the last so that the sting of the preceding one was re-enforced by the following one.

How many Clare received she couldn’t count, her ability to think straight had been shattered by that first unexpected stroke. It seemed to go on forever, tears streamed down her face as she sobbed uncontrollably into her gag. The severity of the caning was overwhelming but, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

Slowly regaining control of herself, Clare tried to listen to her surroundings. She was convinced now, that it was a port and that she was onboard a boat. This was confirmed when, moments later, she felt movement as the engines started and the deck started to vibrate under her.

Trying to ease the pain in her arms, Clare felt an unbearable pain on her already sore bum. A voice told her to remain still and she realised that salt water was being applied to her. Clare tried to scream in agony, but the gag prevented her from being heard more than a few feet away. As soon as they stopped wiping her bum with the water, Clare was lowered to the deck of the ship. Still shackled and blindfolded Clare was moved along the deck of the boat. Listening, she could hear the wolf whistles and shouts from men around the port as they sailed close to shore leaving, she assumed, the port. She was glad at this time that her face, at least, was covered even if most of the rest of her body was open to show. The embarrassment that she would have felt if she could see the men looking at her would have been too much for her to bear.

After a while the boat started to rock a little and Clare was finding it difficult to stand. She remained in place for some minutes, not daring to move, until she was turned around and gently led below decks to a cabin.

Once in the cabin all the restraints were removed along with the collar. The blindfold was then lifted off and Clare squinted at the brightness around her as she looked at her luxurious surroundings. The man removed her gag and then handed her a letter, leaving her to read it without saying a word.

Clare opened the letter and read it. Bemused by the content of the letter, she sat down on the soft bed and re-read it trying to take in the words and their meaning.

It read:

Woman,

You will remain in this cabin until the boat docks.

All your food will be supplied to you.

You will find suitable clothing in the wardrobe.

The clothes you have on will be placed on your next food tray

You will not talk to the steward

Any breach will be punished

Master

“Woman?” thought Clare, her master had always referred to her by her name saying what a lovely name it was. Standing up, Clare opened the wardrobe and looked at the clothes. There was only one outfit which was made of the finest silk…and it was see through!! Clare hunted through all the cupboards for the rest of the clothes but found nothing else.

Not daring to disobey she removed her lingerie and put on the clothes. Clare looked at herself in the mirror, she was now wearing ankle length silk trousers and a silk top that just slipped over her head.

“Bloody hell!! It shows everything” she exclaimed to herself, embarrassed at what she could see and would be revealing.

Almost immediately the door opened and the steward walked into the room. Efficiently, he placed her meal on the table and when satisfied that everything was right he turned to leave. He picked up the tray and Clare suddenly remembered the letter and hurriedly placed her clothes on it, squirming as she did so under the gaze of this man desperately trying to hide what her clothes didn’t. Without a word but with a smug smile on his face, he left the cabin and Clare to her meal.

The smells coming from the table were delicious and reminded Clare that she hadn’t eaten since lunch time the day before. The rawness of her bum after her caning quickly prevented her from sitting on the dining chair and she decided to eat sitting on the much softer bed.

After her meal Clare decided to take a shower, she removed her clothes laying them on the bed and stepped into the bathroom. As she showered she had the time to consider all that had happened to her. The race home, the long hours waiting for the call, the drive to the services, the journey in the lorry and then the caning on the boat deck. “God knows who saw that” she said to herself, ”and what about the car”. Her thoughts started to race again worrying about the car, until she realised there was nothing she could do about it.

Clare towelled herself down and then, returning to the main room, noticed that the table had been cleared while she had showered. She re-dressed and then wondered what to do. There were no books, radio or telly in the room, so Clare decided to try and sleep.

Just as she was about to drift off to sleep Clare heard the door open. Sitting up on the bed she hoped that some explanation was to come from this person about what was happening.

Clare looked at him, he was about 25, quite tall, heavily built and very dark skinned. An Arab perhaps, she thought to herself. He said nothing, but moved to the head of the bed, and pressed a button which released restraints from the sides of the bed.