Faulty goods can't be returned
Bridget should have been angry with the young man, for dressing her in a sexy French maid outfit. Looking in the mirror, she couldn't help smiling, at the obvious choice of outfit. Swinging her hips swirled the white ruffled petticoats around, which stiffly held up the hem of the black dress. It didn't take much movement for a tantalising glimpse of the sensible white panties, or even to reveal them.
Her breasts were pushed into a deep cleavage, and she wondered how far she could bend without the nipples falling out. Of course her bottom would be revealed with the slightest bend, with the hem held up over the petticoats.
Despite this, she wasn't angry, instead she found it to be a compliment being dressed like a sexy model at her age. She was thirty-eight, not old by any standards, but the guy was only twenty-four, and he wanted her. That surely was a compliment, even though it was dangerous, more so, as she found herself becoming horny when near him.
Her husband and Sebastian said she looked to be in her twenties. Had they been lying, or was it her pale, unlined skin, that kept her looking young. Coming up to a critical age, she fished for all the compliments she could get. Being sold by her husband wasn't a compliment, and she was still angry with him. That the young man had paid so much for her, was a point in his favour.
Adjusting a nipple that was trying to escape the low cut top, she decided it was time to find out what was planned for her. It would take a little while getting down the stairs in the high heels. Higher than she was used to, she wondered who in their right minds would wear such crippling shoes.
'I am, I'm the fool,' she quietly murmured, and tottered out of the dressing room to the stairs.
Holding the banisters tight, she carefully placed each foot, so as not to fall or twist an ankle.
Bridget stopped for a moment, half way down the curving staircase, to look in a large full length mirror.
'What in hell am I doing here?' she asked herself. 'That man has me dressed like an extra in a porn movie. Oh! Hell! I can't go home dressed like this, and I don't know where my clothes are. They were in the damn house somewhere as he said something about the laundry, wherever that was. Dare I complain, while we owe him so much money?' she asked her image, while swishing the petticoats around. 'Do I want to complain?'
Talking to herself wasn't a good thing. She needed confidence and determination to tell him she was going home. It was getting late, but not too late to go home and apologise to her husband. It had been silly going off with the young guy in the first place, and she only did it to get back at Bob.
If only she hadn't slept with Sebastian, this whole silly thing could be laughed away as a joke, and she could go home with a clear conscience. Now she was trapped in guilt, and trapped by a young man who wanted more of her. Did she have any more to give? Hadn't she given him too much already?
He said she was his slave because he bought her. They both knew it was true, yet it was still a joke, until she became carried away in a fantasy, and let him have his way with her.
'Oh! God! Why did I do that, it was so stupid! Having sex with him has changed everything,' she muttered, then walked into the dining room.
'You look so beautiful, my slave girl, I'll have you for dinner,' he enthusiastically commented.
The intense sincere look got to her, like an arrow to the heart, and she forgot about home for a moment. As soon as the novelty wore off they could talk sensibly and she would go home, where she could sort out a loan, or instalments, to pay him back.
'How may I serve my master,' she said, demurely looking at the floor.
The feelings from when they made love were reignited in his presence, leaving her feeling weak and vulnerable, in need of someone to protect her. Bridget was looking to him for protection, but who was going to protect her from him.
He was so powerful and manly, a lot of strength would have to be found to defy him. After dinner it would have to be said, that she had to go home to her husband. Surely he could see that.
Sebastian heard her call him master again, and wondered what she was imagining, for she was certainly getting something from this game of hers. He watched her whole demeanour change from being a tall confident woman, striding in on high heels, to head bowed with subservience.
'The food is ready to be served, it's in the kitchen,' he dismissively said.
'Yes, master,' she responded, and hobbled away on the high heels.
Sebastian stroked his chin, with a wicked grin on his face. He'd seen her hazel eyes flashing with temper directed at her husband, yet since here in his house, she'd shown him deference, acting almost submissive. He thought a person was either a firebrand or passive, not either depending on the situation. He wondered what was going on in that intelligent mind of hers.
Fortunately Sebastian had ordered Chinese food, as she was a terrible cook. Bob said she could even burn water. Not thinking about her husband was necessary, or she would run home dressed like a sexy French maid. What happened to her forthright, determined manner, she had no idea. She was thinking and acting like a pathetic slave girl, and found it difficult to shake off when in his presence.
Back in the dining room, she served dinner on eighteenth century porcelain. She'd only seen the pattern in books, and knew it was rare, yet he had a near complete dinner service. There was certainly a need for coordination in decorating the house, to make it into a home. She was just the woman to add a feminine touch, and had the knowledge to bring it all together. The house wasn't quite a blank canvas, but near enough to make it a highly interesting project.
'Is everything to your liking, master?' she asked, and curtsied.
Bridget couldn't help playing up to him, and it wasn't because they owed him so much money. He'd never mentioned it, otherwise she would have something to hold against him. Instead, he was charming, handsome, and desired her. That was the trouble, he was showering her with attention, which she wasn't used to.
She was responding to his flirting, when she should be planning an escape from him, and it seemed so silly when all she had to do was walk away. So why was it so hard to break away from his presence?
'Yes, you are certainly to my liking, slave girl. I wouldn't change a thing about you. From your beautiful shining long hair, to your wonderful small feet. I want to kiss you all over, and make love to you,' he said.
'Master! I, I can't. It's wrong, how can I,' she sighed.
Sebastian pulled her onto his lap, and cuddled her, telling her how wonderful she was with lips close to an ear.
'Your hazel eyes flash angrily when you don't get what you want, and they glisten when you are with me. When you tease, your nose wrinkles ever so slightly, revealing you want me. The corners of your mouth point upwards with a smile ready to burst upon your luscious lips,' he whispered in an ear.
'Here let me feed you,' he said, and used chopsticks to pull some noodles from the plate.
The plates were hot and kept the food warm, as Chinese food went cold too easily, and that she knew from experience. It seemed neither of them could eat much, with thoughts and fantasies racing around in their heads. She wanted a strong man to master her, but she was a married woman, so she couldn't give in to silly ideas revolving around this handsome young man.
***
Dinner was eventually abandoned, and Bridget soon cleared up the kitchen to a sparkling finish, just as it had been this afternoon. Unable to cook, she could at least clear and clean.
She handed him a brandy, and waited beside him, not for orders, but for him to finish the drink so that he was mellow. She held out the tray for his empty glass, but didn't go to fetch another.
Sebastian wondered how he'd refrained from grabbing her and simply using her for sex. The short dress, starched petticoats, stockings and suspenders, all contributed to her being a sex goddess.
She stood close enough that he could feel the heat of her sex in waves, as she swung her hips, rustling the petticoats. They had risen up revealing the golden triangle which was the source of so much attraction, he wanted to grab her hips and lick her candy.
'Master, may this humble slave speak?' she asked him, breaking in upon his contemplation of her.
'Yes, of course, slave' he said, playing along with her fantasy.
'I need to go home, and make arrangements to pay you back,' she pointedly said.
'Maybe. I thought you might want to stay with me. Just tonight, and we could see how it goes. Tomorrow you can pick some furniture and paintings to decorate this place, and make it into a home. It needs your feminine touch, as well as your good taste,' he said, not sounding insistent or desperate.
She was thankful he wasn't making a fuss.
'I will need my clothes, master,' she said, feeling embarrassed over the request.
'Ah! A bit of a problem. The Chinese collected them when they delivered the food. I've an arrangement with the laundry next to the restaurant. They deliver food, and collect my things to wash and iron. I guess they will be confused this time. They will bring them back in a few days. Won't that do?' he asked.
'Well, I guess, I just can't stay, sorry,' she blurted out.
He nodded his head, and wordlessly they walked to the door. He kissed her and she began to respond within his tight embrace. He opened the door and found it heavily raining.
