Jane was standing in a room, in a house, she knew not where. The journey had taken some time, though it was difficult to calculate how long, as her mind had switched off. It had been the only way to cope with the demeaning position of being sold as a slave. It was only for the weekend, she told herself, yet again.
'Only for a weekend!' she laughed, and caught hold of it, before she became hysterical.
Margaret had given her to a stranger before, though not for money, and only for an afternoon. This time she wouldn't just have a sex session with a stranger, she would be his sex slave, for a whole weekend. Just have sex with a stranger? Damn! Just to think that showed how low she sunk. Her morals had been whittled away while in that damn house with Margaret and her son, Mark.
She reminded herself that it was to raise money for her daughters tuition fees. The thought helped a little. Besides, whatever Margaret told her to do, she would have to go along with, or face the consequences. It was better to forget that Margaret had given her the option of backing out. Much better to blame the horrendous situation on someone else.
Jane sat down on a hard leather sofa. The room was a man's room. There weren't heads of stuffed animals on the walls, but there was a smell of leather, and a faint odour of pipe tobacco. A hint of wood polish too. She wondered what kind of man would buy a slave. Would he be cruel and vindictive. Would he punish her at every opportunity for the slightest infringement of his rules?
The idea of a harsh master was from a fantasy she had some time ago. It certainly wasn't something she would want to experience for real. Reality! How could being sold into slavery be true? She had been auctioned off to the highest bidder, and was here waiting for her master, so how much more real could it get. She sat there on the edge of the sofa with fears for herself tumbling through her mind.
Margaret's clients had been reasonable with her, even kind and romantic. At least one of them had, that first time she found herself in bed with a stranger. She stupidly thought she was in love with him, just because they had sex. It had all been new and strange, but became easier after that. Now she was waiting to play a sex game with a master, acting as his slave.
How in hell had she fallen this far from grace? Looking back to married life, she had endured sex, not enjoyed it. Now she did! Oh, how she did enjoy sex!
The sound of a vehicle crunching the driveway gravel startled her out a reverie. She jumped up from the sofa and stood at attention. Her heart was thumping and her breathing rate was in gasps. Damn! She was on fire! The humiliation of being reduced to a lowly sex slave, had her heated up. She trembled with passion.
Whoever her master was to be, he was in the house! She could hear heavy footsteps on a hardwood floor. Getting closer, louder, filling her tuned ears with sound. Footsteps stopped outside the door. She watched the door handle turn, with eyes wide open, taking it all in. A hand attached to an arm was glimpsed as she dropped her head.
Looking at the carpet was an evasion, as well as a sign of deference to a new master. She was putting off the moment of contact. He was in the room, but not seen. This man would be far more than a husband, who should be a partner, he would be her lord and master. Fear had mostly dissipated, after thinking about this moment nonstop over the last two weeks. Instead of being afraid, she was sexed up, panting for it!
Bob looked at the woman standing in his study, with head bowed, looking very much the humble maid he had purchased for the weekend. He knew her from committees they were both members of. It was hard to believe this self-important woman was willing to be a weekend slave. Yet his friend had been right. Her whole demeanour showed her to be humble, and compliant. Though, it remained to be seen how long that would last.
'Slave, let your master see what has been purchased,' he gruffly stated.
Bob hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but he was nervous, and just let out a rehearsed speech. He watched with apprehension, not knowing if she would obey him, or simply revert to character, and defy him. She could simply walk out in disgust, and cause him no end of trouble.
Instead of turning around as expected, she began popping the press studs on the overall. Opening his mouth to stop her, he slapped his lips shut again. With head down she slipped out of the mean garment, folded it up, and laid it on the arm of a sofa. She then slowly turned around, until she was again toward him, though still with her head bowed.
Seeing her in underwear for the first time confirmed what he had thought. She had a cute ass, and a well developed pair of breasts. The underwear hid little of her figure. A corset hugged her waist, and held up a pair of black stockings, with thin suspenders pressing into her thighs. Her white breasts bulged over the top of the black corset.
'Yes. . .' is all he could comment. 'Very nice, slave,' he eventually added.
She just stood there, letting him ogle her near naked body. He should be doing something, or saying something, to put her in her place. After all the times she had dismissed his suggestions at committee meetings, this was a grand opportunity. Ideas of settling scores vanished on seeing her curvy body.
He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Think! He told himself. Before he went any further he should confirm where they stood. Appearances can be deceiving.
'Why are you here, slave?' he demanded to know.
'Your slave is here to serve her master,' Jane stated.
There was a tremble in her voice from being aroused, though he put it down to nerves.
'What will you do for your master,' he asked.
'Anything master wants. Your slave is a sex slave, Master,' she said, making it sound like a plea.
She was desperate for sex. It was easy to let herself go with a stranger, for they had no relationship to protect, no history, and no future to think of. Sex was just an immediate fulfilment of a need.
With that confirmation he relaxed. He still wondered what had happened to her, to slew her morals so sharply from the straight and narrow. If what she said was true, she had lost them completely.
'Look at me, slave, and tell me again,' he heavily stated.
Jane looked up at her new master. She swayed, and nearly fell at his feet. It was someone she knew, it was Mr McKenzie! Her head swam with fear, desire, and a myriad of emotions consorting to swamp her mind. Why in hell did it have to be him!
'Well?' he demanded.
'Master,' she began, only to falter.
A dry mouth had to be cleared. For a moment she thought to explain away her presence. How could that be possible? He knew why she was here. He had bought her as a slave! She had just confirmed she was his sex slave!
With eyes fixed on his, unable to tear them away, she repeated what Margaret had made her rehearse. 'Your slave is here to serve her master. Slave is your sex slave, Master, ready to obey masters' every desire.' she hoarsely whispered.
It was too late now. There was nothing she could do, or say, to get out of this dreadful mess. Why did it have to be him that bought her? After this weekend they would meet, and both would be painfully aware of what happened between them. It didn't bear thinking about. The thought of such embarrassing situations to come, stoked her up.
'Get dressed slave,' he said, and turned away.
Going to his desk gave him a chance to calm down. Before the auction he thought it would be amusing to humiliate the damn woman. Instead, she accepted the demeaning position, so he would have to get used to it, and quickly. He had half a mind to give her a moral lecture and send her packing.
With difficulty he brought himself under control, and turned to her. 'The kitchen needs a thorough clean, get to it, and return here when it's done, slave,' he ordered.
'Yes, master, thank you master,' Jane shyly spoke.
'Don't forget your clothes,' he said.
She picked up the overall and quickly ran out, clutching it, rather than dress in front of hm.
Well, at least he'd get something out of this, after paying for her. Bob chuckled to himself. As planned, Margaret didn't know who had bought the slave. There was no need to pay the extra commission, so he had her on the cheap. Again he wondered why she was doing this. Was she so very desperate for money, or did Margaret have something on her?
Tomorrow he would do a little digging. In the meantime, he had a slave to keep busy before she had time to think of rebelling. He sat there wondering what would have happened if one of those others had bought her. They didn't know her, and would assume she was a dirty tramp to have agreed to such a deplorable situation. The sight of her in sexy underwear, and the declaration she made, made it very tempting to take advantage.
Sometime ago, during a coffee break at a meeting, he tried to be friendly, and called her Jane. She became all huffy, and insisted he call her, Mrs Marshal. Now he was calling her slave! Such a turnabout couldn't be resisted, with him inevitably using the term, slave, at every opportunity.
In the kitchen she was busy cleaning when he came to check up on her. 'I want a whisky, slave,' he demanded.
'Yes, Master,' she responded.
He led her back to the study, and showed her where the drinks were kept. She poured a single malt, and served him, using an old silver tray he had never bothered with before. She stood beside him, waiting for instructions.
'Slave, you may return to the kitchen. I'll call you if I need another drink,' he casually said.
'Yes, master, thank you master,' she said, in return.
Bob was surprised there were no mutterings, heavy sighs, or even a raised eyebrow, from the way he was treating her. Everyone had noticed she was behaving less strident and determined at the last couple of committee meetings. The gossip had been that it was due to an illness. The way she bent so easily to the role of slave meant it was more than that. It was another mystery to consider.
