Author's note: Sorry this chapter took so long to complete. I edit as I go, so that slows me down some, and I try to write every day, but life gets in the way sometimes. I'd like to thank everyone who reads my stuff. Feedback is always appreciated! Once more, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Lady B, my best booster and critic. - W.M.
Submissive in Surrey
Chapter 3: The Ugly Voice
Almost as soon as Myf left the room, I started worrying. She'd asked to submit to me for the day; and Jan, her actual Mistress, had sanctioned the idea, but none of that meant that I had any qualifications for the role of dominant. I thought that sending her away just as I was getting her hot and bothered was a clever move - treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen as the saying went - but what if it wasn't? What if I'd hurt her instead?
Normal people have an inner critic. They will attempt some undertaking, whether artistic, literary or otherwise, and the critic will consider whether it's worth continuing with. That's healthy. Reasonable. I had that too, but my inner critic had teeth. I sometimes thought of it as the Ugly Voice; and while my conscious mind knew it was anything but reasonable, it still influenced me. It fed my anxiety. It made me second-guess my decisions, like this one. When it was at its worst, and I was tired or weak, it made me think I was hopeless, worthless, useless.
I sipped the tea that Myf had made for me. It was tepid. Sitting around wasn't going to fix anything. Action was the cure for anxiety, I knew. Muttering a curse, I left the sitting room and headed for the kitchen, trying to cram the Ugly Voice back into its box as I walked.
Myf was there, of course - I'd sent her there to make lunch, and besides, I had a feeling that the kitchen was her sanctum, a safe place to retreat to when she was hurt. She had her back to me, but wasn't moving. The leash attached to her collar was hanging down over her shoulder, like the tail of a frightened puppy. I saw her shoulders tremble and knew she was fighting off a cloudburst.
I made no attempt to be stealthy. Myf knew I was in the room but made no attempt to say or do anything. I felt I had one chance to make this right.
I whispered in her ear. "All good things come to those who wait."
It was transformative. Myf turned to me, the smile I liked so much reappearing, belying the single tear that ran down her cheek. "Annette... Miss? "Y-you still want to...?"
By way of answer, I seized the end of her leash. "I told you to keep this on, didn't I? You're not getting away from me that easily, my Angel."
She gave out a little squeal and fell into her role easily. "No Miss, of course not! What would Miss like for lunch?"
I continued to hold the end of the leash. "Well, it wasn't all that long ago you made breakfast. How about you just make us each a sandwich and we can go for a walk? It's nice out, you can show me the grounds."
"Oh, yes, Miss, great idea! I'd love to show you."
"Okay, it's settled then. But swap out those heels and hose for some sensible shoes. I'm not having you break your ankles outside, or punch holes in the turf." I thought for a moment. "Also, can you tell me where Jan keeps her car keys?"
Myf looked perplexed. "But Mistress took the Bentley to London with her."
"Not what I'm after," I answered.
...
It was sunny outside, but there were clouds gathering. I knew the weather could change abruptly so kept one eye on it. Myf led me around the more picturesque parts of the gardens surrounding Jan's mansion, and I marvelled at the simple understated beauty and tranquility all around me. Of course, I was slightly distracted by the fact that my guide was still wearing a stereotypical French maid outfit and that I was holding the end of her leash.
Yeah, "slightly." Let's go with that. It was only a crumbling sense of propriety, and that top-ten hit, my self-loathing, that was keeping me from accepting what she was so freely offering. Myf was spoken for. No matter what she or Jan had to say about it. "Sharing" was okay, Jan said. "Cheating" wasn't. And the Ugly Voice was telling me I wasn't good enough for either of them. But still, Myf was making the offer, and she was so pretty and so sweet, and I was lonely, and refusing her would hurt her, and... I groaned out loud. Myf asked if I was all right. I said "Yeah, fine."
We passed a lovely marble fountain and encountered a wall of green that rose higher than my head. "A hedge?" I asked, perceptive as always.
Myf grinned. "A hedge maze. Let's go in and get lost."
Of course, we didn't get lost. Myf had to have been familiar with the place, and I wondered how difficult one could make a hedge maze anyway. She ended up leading me to the centre of the maze, where there sat a bench and table. Myf started to open the basket she was carrying and suggested that we have our lunch.
I soon understood that asking Myf to make a sandwich was interpreted somewhat differently by her. She unfolded a tablecloth, then laid out a couple of plates, sandwiches, cake, plastic cups and a flask of tea. At this point, I wouldn't have been too surprised to see a candelabra on the table as well!
"Myf, really... this is too much", I said with a hint of a stammer.
She had an answer ready. "Nothing is too much for my Miss," she said with pride. What could I say to that?
"Thank you," was my answer, as we started eating.
...
After a time, I sat back, replete and relaxed, and closed my eyes for a moment. I opened them again a minute later as I felt my shoes being removed.
"Myf, what're you do... ohh." Her fingers were working on the soles of my feet and it felt tremendous. Among her other skills, Myf had picked up the art of reflexology massage, or so it seemed.
"Just relax, Miss," was her cheerful rejoinder.
"Oh... okay..." I sighed. Her hands were stronger than she looked and hit all the right places. It was easy to lay back and relax while she worked her magic. After what seemed like a long time, the massage went from deep muscular probing to a much softer and more sensual touch.
What the hell,
I thought,
in for a penny...
"Myf..."
"Yes, Miss?"
"You can go higher."
Almost at once, her hands started working my calves; and then, after a few minutes, my thighs. It had been a long time since someone touched me like that. It was now much more arousing than relaxing. I sighed softly. My hand reached down and tousled Myf's hair and she mewed happily.
"Take them off me, " I muttered, and Myf needed no further prompting. She removed my skirt and pulled my panties down and looked at me as I parted my legs a little.
I didn't order her. I couldn't. Instead, I pleaded.
"Myf, please..."
Without hesitation, she kissed my mound and I shuddered at her gentle, intimate touch. "Oh, Miss, it took you long enough", she teased. "I was starting to think you didn't like me..."
She stopped talking then as her tongue had better things to do. Much, much better. Good Lord, where did Jan find this girl? And where could I get one? Maybe it was because I was at the end of a post-Flic drought, but Myf was so good I was paralysed.
Her hands gentle on my hips, soft, warm and loving. Her tonguetip, tiny and flickering like the wing of a hummingbird, teasing up and down each of my labia, then her lips, offering tiny suctions to the area around my clit, but never enough to escalate things quickly. Then, her hands moved and I felt her thumbs holding me open and her tongue diving in, exploring my vag and finding nothing but delighted nerve endings.
I shuddered. I moaned. I even tried to talk. "Ffffffuuuuuuccckkk, Myf..."
Her sweet little head bobbed up and she made eye contact for a moment. "What was that? 'Fuck me, Myf?' I could, I s'pose, if I'd packed a strap-on." God damn it, her expression told me she knew exactly what she was doing to me, and she was enjoying it! I asked myself again, where did Jan find this woman? I thought she was sweet and innocent but she only looked that way.
Then her head bobbed back down and I couldn't think straight any more as all my neural real estate was consumed with pleasure. We joke about men having two brains and only enough blood to operate one of them at a time, but at that moment I could swear it was true for women as well!
I threw my head back and my toes curled. My fists opened and closed. It was unbelievable just how skilled Myf was. It was like she had a road map of my nervous system and made it her life's work to study it! And yet, she was dragging it out. She must have known how needy and desperate I was, but she didn't go in for the kill. Instead, she drew her head away from me while keeping me on a rolling boil with her fingers. She made eye contact with me once more and said one word.
"Well?"
I couldn't think. Couldn't figure out what she was expecting, but didn't want to say nothing. She was waiting for me to say something, and the implied threat was there as her maddening finger-dance on my most sensitive spots had slowed almost to a stop.
I couldn't think. I had to just talk.
" - please, Myf - "
She sighed; a disappointed sigh, I thought. "You're going to have to plead better than that, Netty..."
I heard myself utter a moan that emerged from the pit of my being. "PLEASE, Myf, ohhh God, please, I need to cum so bad - "
Her fingers drummed a little faster, increasing my heat maddeningly, but not quite enough. Then she grinned and to me it looked sinister, almost. "I'll make you a deal, Netty. You give me your cigarettes right now. You don't get to smoke today. And I'll let you cum. Otherwise I stop right now."
"Fffuck, Myf, I don't have them! I don't! They're in the house... PLEASE, Myf..."
"You promise to give me them? Yes or no?"
