Roger was pleased with himself. Rachael was a friend of his parents and she hadn't recognised him, which was perfect under the circumstances. The woman was playing at being a slave in Nathanial's home, and Roger had been asked to look after her. Before leaving Nathanial instructed her to obey Roger, and she had certainly played the part well as his slave. Rachael gave him a blowjob, followed by a hot sex session on the lounge carpet.
Rachael was on hands and knees cleaning up the mess they made on the antique Persian rug. He lounged back in an easy chair watching her bare ass wiggling seductively. She didn't have permission to get dressed yet, so remained naked. The older woman was tall with a trim figure, which was kept in good shape with regular exercise. Although she was Roger's parents age, she was attractive and would soon have him aroused, even after the earlier intense performance.
The haughty was she behaved with her husband at functions, meant it was impossible to imagine her playing out this sordid, secret game. He sat quietly musing over what might occur when they met at one of his parents dinner parties. He imagined her embarrassment on realizing she had pandered to the whims of a friend's son, while acting out the roll of a sex slave.
Rachael walked in from the kitchen to stand by him, dutifully awaiting instructions. He looked so young, yet curiously he had experience as a master. Discreetly looking him over she was pleased with what she saw. Acting as a young boys slave was humiliating, and she thrived on those feelings. This hunky young man had aroused and satisfied her, so there was no complaint.
Ending up here had been an accident, yet it had turned out well. A carefully arranged week, serving a stranger as his slave was supposed to be on her terms. Unfortunately the man had to break the arrangement, and passed her on to someone else. Being passed on to a stranger she hadn't investigated beforehand was dangerous. It turned out to be Nathanial who knew her, and more importantly, he knew her husband.
It was vital the dirty furtive games were kept a secret. Nathanial knew this, so she was trapped there, unable to refuse whatever he demanded. Her usual limits and game rules couldn't be enforced with the threat of her secret being revealed.
Instead of it being a horrendous experience, she found herself thriving on the humiliation, and became so aroused she enjoyed his every order, however demeaning.
Being passed on yet again, like a parcel, was demeaning. That it was to a young man half her age was all the more exciting. It was a surprise to find he was an accomplished master, and knew how to satisfy her.
As a mature woman, married to a successful diplomat, this young guy should be treating her with respect, yet she couldn't help herself obediently serving him. The sex session had been overpowering, and she still felt aroused in anticipation of what he might do to her next.
Roger looked at the time, and sighed. Nathanial's wife and daughter would arrive home soon, so it looked as though the fun was over.
"Get dressed, slave," Roger regretfully ordered.
At least he had the memory of screwing this attractive woman to look back on. He also looked forward to meeting up with her again. She was dressed as a naughty French maid, with breasts on show. With the dress high around her thighs everything else was exposed. He remembered her dressed in an expensive gown at one of his parents parties, and nearly laughed out loud.
***
Roger answered the phone connected to the estate gates. He watched an anonymous white van pull up the long driveway. The driver asked where the stables were, and Roger directed him to the back of the house. He knew they had been away for pony training, but couldn't imagine they would tolerate being delivered there. Knowing they would be pissed off, he wasn't sure if he could face them both.
They would be angry from being tricked into being sent away, where they were subjected to a demeaning few weeks of training. It wasn't his fault, yet he shared some of the blame, as it was Hollie, his slave, who set them up.
Bridget would probably save up the resentment to berate her husband, Nathanial, and give him a hard time when he arrived home. Her daughter, Angela, would probably strike out at whoever was around, and that meant him.
Emerging from the kitchen he found the guy leading a leather clad woman out of the van. The feather plumed head gear, high heeled boots, and a high stepping gait, made her look elegant. It took concentrated effort to see it was Bridget, Nathanial's wife, under the pony-girl outfit.
The woman was covered from head to foot in leather. A drool of spittle threatened to drip from the leather bit in her mouth. The hood blinkered her eyes, so she had to concentrate where she stepped, especially with knees lifted thigh high in a majestic pace. The knee length boots shaped her feet into hooves. He wondered how it was possible to stand in them, let alone take such high steps.
The guy tethered her to a ring bolt, which seemed entirely appropriate the way she looked. The tight fitting leather was shaped close to her body, hugging it between the cheeks and everywhere else. On closer examination it didn't cover her body entirely. There was a split at the crotch, leaving her sex accessible.
Reminding himself this was Angela's mother, he stopped the intimate examination. Her breasts couldn't be ignored. Every time she moved little bells rang. They were attached to the nipples, which protruded through the outfit.
It was difficult to gauge her mood, as the hood and blinkers covered most of her face.
Hearing the tinkling of bells warned him of Angela's arrival. She was dressed exactly the same as her mother, except the breasts were fully exposed. They were perched on a leather shelf, scalloped to hold them up and out. Again the nipples were adorned with bells clamped to them. They looked swollen from the grip of the metal ring, and the motion of her walk jiggling her breasts.
"The bays are clean, but they'll need hay to sleep on," the guy stated.
Roger looked around the barn with a vacant expression.
"I'm just here tonight while Nathanial's away," Roger lamely explained.
The guy huffed and puffed with annoyance. He strode over to a bale and cut the twine.
"Grab a pitch fork," he gruffly ordered, indicating another leaning against the wall.
They broke open the bales, shoving hay into two stalls. They hadn't been used for awhile, since Angela had grown out of ponies to take notice of boys.
