"Oh, for Pete's sake, stop making excuses and get on with it. At least this way I'm braced for it and, from the way that cow was looking me over the other day, I'm sure I'm in for far worse before the night is over," Tamsin said with some resentment.
"I know it seems unfair but..."
"Oh, just bloody do it, will you, before I change my mind."
Andrea took the crop off the wall and, before Tamsin really had time to react, lifted the back of Tamsin's skirt laid six stripes across her buttocks.
"Jesus!" Tamsin called out. For a long moment she just gripped the footboard of the bed, her white knuckles and the grimace on her face clearly showing the pain she was fighting. "That really fucking hurts, you know." She let go of the footboard and rubbed at her backside before turning to Andrea. "I don't care how hard it is to pretend that you're Emma Pearson from Paarl, you should be grateful you're not the 'slave' in this little game. Keeping an eye on the prize is a damn sight easier for some than others. Still, I guess I'm stuck with it now."
"Ooh, temper, temper," Andrea thought but wisely didn't say.
Ten minutes later they were sat together in the lounge, both in costume and, so as to be ready to answer the door, Tamsin was even gagged, collared and wearing the linked cuffs. Andrea turned on the TV to pass the time as they waited for the car to arrive. It was it was only a few minutes past six and the early evening news had just started when the front door bell rang. Andrea glanced at Tamsin, mouthed 'here we go' and motioned with her head that she should get up from the sofa where she was sitting and go and answer the door. As Tamsin tottered out of the lounge Andrea called out after her softly, "eye on the prize, remember, eye on the prize."
Tamsin checked through the spyhole in the door and, there on the doorstep, was a woman dressed in a light grey chauffeur's outfit which made her look a little like a sixties air hostess. This had to be Popsy. For a moment Tamsin's nerves overcame her. She really didn't want to do this but then, she had no choice, did she? Telling herself, once again, to 'keep my eye on the prize," she opened the door and gestured the waiting chauffeur into the hallway. Popsy was slight, blonde and quite pretty. As with Lady Mary, she was no longer in the first flush of youth, but she still carried an air of sweetness. They were still checking each other out when Andrea appeared at the lounge door. Popsy curtseyed to her.
"Ah, You must be Lady Mary's chauffeur," Andrea said brightly. "Popsy, isn't it?"
"Yes, Ma'am. I have the car waiting outside."
"Where outside? I hope I don't have too far to walk."
"I'm parked right outside the front door, Ma'am. As close as I could get."
"Very well, we don't want to keep Lady Mary waiting. I'll just be a few moments. Wait here." Andrea went back into the lounge, switched off the TV and returned carrying her handbag. While she did so Tamsin, following their prearranged script, went to the cupboard next to the front door and fetched out Andrea's knee length trench coat so as to be able to help her on with it.
"Lead on," she said to Popsy and, with a jolt, Tamsin realised that, when Andrea had talked about wearing the trench coat and how Tamsin would help her into it, that was all they had discussed. There was no such covering for her and she would have to go out in public wearing just the maid's costume. The ridiculously short skirt, along with the gag, the cuffs and the collar, were hardly subtle and barely legal. It had been bad enough flouncing around in the flat. Once out on the street the slightest breath of wind, or awkward pose and she'd be in danger of getting arrested. Once again she found herself trapped; she had to go along with this or the game was up. Praying that both the lobby and lift would be deserted she followed Andrea and Popsy out of the flat.
Lady Mary's Bentley was, indeed, parked within twenty yards of the front entrance and, once they were out of the door, Tamsin was thankful that she had only a short distance to walk. She glanced nervously up and down the mews. Even this quiet corner of Mayfair was busy enough at this time of day and all she could do was pray that no one would come close enough to make out the details of how she was dressed. Popsy, in her role as chauffeur, opened the rear door for Andrea and ushered her inside. Tamsin was about to follow when Popsy told her, rather haughtily, that, as 'staff', she was to travel in the front seat.
Getting into the car while retaining any modesty was quit a feat and, once in, Tamsin's shackled wrists prevented her reaching behind and pulling down what little there was of her skirt. This meant that it rode up behind her and she was left sitting with her bare buttocks against the leather of the seats. At least it was smooth and cool and helped towards soothing the stripes left by the crop. She did up her seat belt and settled back for the ride.
At first, as Popsy drove the Bentley through the streets of London, the three woman just sat in silence. Tamsin, of course, was gagged and, Andrea's role, based on what they had seen of Lady Mary, was one of haughty superiority and not the sort to waste time idly chatting with the chauffeur. After a while the silence became oppressive and all three were grateful when Andrea suggested that Popsy should turn the radio on. From then on the three of them sat listening to Radio Four's Six O'clock news; dull stuff but much better than silence. Tamsin, sat in the front seat, was well aware of the way the ostentatious car stood out and, when they were stuck in traffic, she felt as if the whole world were watching. Once, waiting for traffic lights on their way through Knightsbridge, she saw, out of the corner of her eye, someone pointing at her. All she could do was squirm in embarrassment as the blood rushed to her face. However, even with the London traffic, it wasn't long before they were on the motorway and, shortly after that, making their way through the lanes of Surrey. They were somewhere south of Godalming when Popsy, using her mobile in hands free mode, made a call and announced, 'We'll be there in five minutes, M'Lady'. Tamsin felt her pulse quicken. Whatever it was that she was to be put through was just around the corner.
Cootbourne House, when they arrived, was surrounded by a high brick wall protecting both it and the grounds from being seen from the road. As they approached the gate Popsy reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a remote control. She clicked the relevant button and the it swung back revealing the drive and the large Georgian house at the end of it.
"How the other half lives," Tamsin thought to herself. As someone who had grown up in the back streets of Streatham in South London she had strong feelings about the distribution of wealth and now this opulence provided yet another reason to despise Lady Mary. The thought of using a front page exposé in the Daily Sleaze as a way of bringing Lady Mary's over privileged world crashing to the ground with was suddenly a lot more appealing. If she had to suffer a smacked bottom along the way, well, she'd keep her eye on the prize and grin and bear it.
The Bentley swept to a halt in front of the house where Lady Mary, alerted by Popsy's phone call, was standing at the front door waiting for them. As soon as the car stopped Lady Mary came down the steps towards them. She was dressed in a white garment that Andrea and Tamsin were later to discover was called a peplos. The loosely draped folds of cloth were fastened by a gold coloured belt and the effect made her look a bit like a Greek goddess. For a moment, Tamsin wondered if Andrea had got the dress code wrong but there were hints of black leather underneath and she clearly remembered Lady Mary saying that leather was stylish. Popsy told Tamsin to wait where she was before getting out of the car and going round to open the door for Andrea.
"Emma, darling, how simply super to see you. Come on in, come on in. The girls are just dying to meet you." And, with that, Andrea was led into the house. Popsy got back into the car and drove round to the yard at the back of the house where she parked up. But, before getting out of the car, she looked across at Tamsin, her face full of concern.
"You don't need to look so scared," she said gently. "We're all quite friendly, here. Come on in and meet the gang, well, the downstairs half, anyway."
Tamsin hadn't realised that she was looking scared but, well, she wasn't surprised. After all, this was it; this was the entrance to the lion's den. Still, Popsy's friendly smile was welcoming and did much to put her at her ease.
They both got out of the car and, as they walked towards the house, Tamsin looked around the yard. One side was stabling and two horses could be seen safely tucked away in their stalls. The other side was outhouses. All in all it was an impressive building and, to Tamsin's mind, far too big for just Lady Mary and Popsy. They went through the back door and into the kitchen. Over by the stove were two women, both wearing little more than cook's aprons, who were working together, fussing over something in a saucepan.
"Hi, ladies," Popsy called out. "Meet the new girl in town."
"Hi there, I'm Calliope," one of the women turned and came over, "and the one completely ruining the gravy is Hipperia." Hipperia looked up from the stove and waved her spatula in welcome. "Come on in. If your boss is here then it will be time for more drinks. Come on up with me and help serve."
