Mistaken for a slave
Riana put on the outfit, and tried not to laugh. It was meant to impress her husband, or at least show willingness to play at satisfying him. He'd recently bought a slave girl, meaning their fragile relationship had finally broken. She decided to do something to save their marriage, by convincing him he didn't need the damn girl.
Over the last year or so their lives had diverged, with them hardly having time for each other. It was time to regain Adrian's interest, or lose her position in his life. He probably wouldn't divorce her, as it would be too embarrassing and expensive. Neither of them would want the social stigma of a messy divorce. Besides that, it would dent the luxury life style she had become accustomed to.
Instead, she was determined to rekindle their sex life. Hence the slave outfit being tried on. He would be back from a business trip later, and decided to try it out before he returned. As a mature, thirty-five year old woman, she was shapely and impressively attractive. She'd prepared herself at a fitness retreat, toning, and honing her figure in preparation. She felt at ease with her body, and was ready to play.
The staff had been dismissed, leaving her alone to receive Adrian. They could play at being master and slave for the whole weekend, without interruption. A servant sent the slave to their lodge in the country, to keep the nuisance out of the way. She hadn't met her and didn't want to, as she was bound to be young and attractive.
Looking in the mirror brought on a mood to play. Imagining being a slave, having to obey a master, had her pressing a hand tightly between her legs. The feeling of having all responsibility taken away, leaving her free to misbehave, was liberating. Having to satisfy a master, being helpless to resist, unable to say no to anything he demanded was erotic, and wonderfully arousing.
'No! No more. I must savour the moment he arrives home, and offer myself to my husband and master,' she giggled.
She felt young, attractive, and excited at the prospect of playing a naughty fantasy game. In the kitchen, she prepared a drink to steady her nerves. Maybe she wasn't so confident as first thought.
'You! I need breakfast,' Jimmy demanded. 'Something for a sore head too.'
Riana swiftly turned, to see all of last nights' guests hadn't left after all. The surprise appearance shook her from the fantasies she'd been contemplating. Her mouth hung open, while her head caught up with the unexpected.
'Get a move on, slave,' Jimmy demanded.
He couldn't shout as his head pounded. A tall glass of orange, then a coffee, followed by food, would do the trick.
'I didn't know anyone was here,' she lamely said.
'Evidently I am. Your master rejected my business proposal last night, so I drowned my sorrows and slept late. Now I'm suffering a hangover, as well as the loss of a profitable deal,' he complained.
She figured out who this must be. It was the son of an important investor her husband dealt with. Yesterday evening she'd kept clear of the business dinner, while they discussed their boring deals. The servants had been left to entertain Adrian and his guests.
What was she to do? Immodestly showing off her body to a stranger was dreadful. Adrian was sure to find out, as young men always bragged to their friends. This young man would embellish the encounter with a semi-naked woman, making it into something it wasn't. Maybe he would tell an exaggerated tale to his father, which would get back to her husband.
'Well? Get a move on, slave,' he chivvied her into motion.
While trying to pull the diaphanous one-piece costume together to hide her body, she scampered to a cupboard.
'I heard Mr Reagan had bought a slave. You look good, though a bit old for a slave girl,' he sniggered.
Opening cupboards to find something to cook, hadn't been a decision, it was a reaction. She'd just responded to his firm order on the spur of the moment, and continued to go along with it. Pretending to be a slave was an option. Though, it was hard to think of another way to avoid the embarrassment of admitting who she really was. The important thing was to save face, for her, as well as for her husband.
Riana found condiments in the first cupboard opened, so selected what he might want. With a coffee cup in one hand, and a small tray of sauces in the other, she leaned over the table. Before she could lay them before him, her breasts swung out the top.
'That's very nice, but I'd rather have breakfast first,' he quipped.
Bent over him with her breasts on show, stunned her. As though in slow motion, she watched his hands approach her breasts. He pushed them back into the top. She quickly dropped the cup and tray onto the table and retreated.
Her eyes were unseeing, as she opened and closed cupboards. There was no turning back now. She would have to play this dire game through to the end. Hell! What was she to do, if her husband returned before this lout left the house.
One thing at a time. Feed him, and he would go. A young man had things to do, and places to go. He didn't look as though he would hang around. Not like her breasts had. Shit!
'Stop thinking about that, and get on with it,' she silently admonished herself.
'Are you cursing me under your breath?' Jimmy asked.
'No, sir,' Riana quickly answered.
The fridge was well stocked, so at last she began the process. The microwave set itself according to the food pushed in. Different parts of the dish were zapped according to cooking times. She often wondered if they needed a cook. There were social and government obligations, so they had to provide jobs for those who suffered in the financial crisis. It was all a part of their social scene, and had to be seen to be done. Hence the household servants, and the recent fashionable addition, a household slave.
'Make sure the eggs are free range, and the bacon isn't animal fat, slave,' he sullenly directed.
'Yes, sir,' she sighed.
Who in the twenty-second century used animals for food? He was just commanding her for the sake of it, to make him feel superior. She clicked her tongue in exasperation.
'I don't like your attitude, slave,' he goaded her.
Oh God! She'd just noticed her nipples were showing large and dark through the filmy silk. She wondered what else was being shown off to this arrogant young man. The lighting in her bedroom was subdued, when she tried the outfit on. The slave costume was meant for Adrian's bedroom, not the brightly lit kitchen.
'Does your master know you run around the house so lewdly?' he asked.
'Yes, sir, err, no, sir,' she stammered.
The slits up the sides of the pantaloons revealed tantalising glimpses of her legs. She now realised the horrible baggy pants were translucent, showing off everything. It was difficult walking around the kitchen while keeping her thighs pressed together.
'What's wrong with you? You're walking like a pregnant duck. I've a good mind to tell your master how useless you are,' he admonished her.
