Annabel - Live-in Maid to the Gentry!

Annabel - Live-in Maid to the Gentry!

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Annabel - Live-in Maid to the Gentry!

Summary

Annabel - Live-in Maid to the Gentry!

Chapter1 (v.1) - Annabel - Live-in Maid to the Gentry!

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: March 27, 2017

Reads: 2101

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Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: March 27, 2017

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Chapter One Hundred and Six

 

Sitting beside Barclay, her former butler, in his modest little Honda CR-V, Annabel stared with growing anxiety as they trundled up the sweeping gravel drive that lead to a stately Georgian-style country mansion. It wasn’t on the scale of Pemberton Hall, the huge estate that Annabel had grown up in, but having spent the past few months cooped up in Darius Nash’s pokey little brownstone, she now found herself quite intimidated by the size of this new and unfamiliar place. Not least because – as Nash had explained to her that morning – unlike her previous life at Pemberton Hall where she had ruled as the powerful and pampered young mistress, Annabel would soon be working here as a lowly maid. Furthermore, Nash had spitefully informed her just how far down the food chain she was going to be at her new place of work – right at the very bottom, to be exact!

Thinking back, there had been a strange, almost wistful look in Nash’s eyes as he had imparted the news that she would be spending a couple of months working at a posh residence on Long Island. It was almost as if he was afraid he wasn’t ever going to see her again, and not for the first time, Annabel had wondered if there more going on here than she had at first realized. The fact that Aunt Sissy had agreed to allow her to be left in the hands of a perverted sadist like Nash in the first place had never made any sense, and then her friend Alisha’s subsequent entrapment followed by her own sudden departure had also raised questions in Annabel’s mind as to just how much power Nash really held over ‘his’ girls.

“Come on, “Barclay said, opening his door. “Time to meet your new employers!”

Annabel duly let herself out of the passenger side and followed him. It wasn’t that long ago, Annabel ruefully recalled, that Barclay would have opened the door for her with a deferential bow. Nowadays she was no more than mere chattel to him, a sex slave with whom he had had his way on any number of occasions. And why wouldn’t she be? Barclay was by now intimately familiar with every inch of her naked body, as well as having witnessed her undergo the most humiliating of sexually perverted ordeals! Familiarity breeds contempt, and although his sexual desire for her was still plainly obvious, her easy access meant that he was no longer awe-struck by Annabel’s beauty. How far removed from the days at Pemberton Hall when Annabel used to deliberately flaunt herself in front of him, secure in the knowledge that the old lecher would never have dared to lay a hand on her!

Employers, indeed! Annabel thought miserably as she followed Barclay up a set of stone steps flanked by neatly trimmed privet hedges. Even though she was the heiress to a fortune, Annabel hadn’t been permitted to handle so much as a single cent since she had been placed under Nash’s control – and she seriously doubted that there would be any financial compensation for whatever ‘work’ she would be required to perform here!

“Funny how things turn out, isn’t it?” Barclay said while they waited on the front portico. “All those years that I waited on you hand and foot without a word of thanks, and now you are going to find out exactly how that feels!”

Annabel remained silent and stared glumly at the flagstones under her feet. She doubted if there was anything these people could possibly come up with that could match the degradations that Nash had already inflicted upon her. Even so, at least he was a known quantity. Now she would have to recalibrate her emotions once again. Being naked and humiliated had almost become second nature to her by now, and yet every time new people were introduced to her debasement, her shame and self-loathing would always plummet to ever lower depths. Who might be waiting for her behind that door? Was it a family? Would there be boys or girls of her own age, or perhaps even younger? What kind of people would they be? Would they treat her fairly, or was she about to be thrown at the mercy of a new bunch of sadistic freaks?

As these possibilities tumbled around Annabel’s troubled mind, the door swung open and her heart immediately sank. A tall and stern looking woman glared down at her with such a withering expression that Annabel was immediately reminded of the terrifying and sadistic Nurse Ingle. Unlike the psychopathic nurse however, this woman was dressed in a crisp white blouse, a navy, knee length pencil skirt, dark tights, and highly polished black stilettos. Her black hair was shaped into an immaculate pageboy cut, and Annabel couldn’t help noticing the high thrust of the woman’s ample chest. She had to be in her forties, but her figure was still trim, her narrow waist flaring out into broader hips and thighs before tapering back down into shapely calves.

In her previous life, Annabel had always reveled in the envious looks that the other girls had given her as she had minced around in the latest designer wear. Now, with her own red tresses shorn into a ragged bob, and clad only in a simple blue and white checked tunic with cheap plastic sandals on her sockless feet, Annabel felt decidedly second-rate in the presence of this frightening but elegant woman. A little shiver ran up her spine as she contemplated spending the next two months under this woman’s strict rule, and she found herself almost missing Mrs. Craddock!

After giving Annabel a cursory onceover, the woman’s eyes softened ever so slightly as she said to Barclay, “Hello, Alastair, it’s been a while.”

“Hello yourself, Veronica,” Barclay said. “You’re looking well.”

The fearsome-looking woman almost smiled then, and in spite of her growing anxiety, Annabel couldn’t help wondering if they had ever been lovers. The fact they were old acquaintances was of no comfort to her of course, because it increased the likelihood that this grand house was going to serve as yet another venue for acts of depraved cruelty at her expense.

“You’re looking rather rejuvenated yourself,” Veronica said.

“Well you know what they say,” Alastair said. “You’re only as young as what you feel!” And to Annabel’s embarrassment, he promptly reached over and squeezed her right buttock.

“Quite,” Veronica said stiffly, before turning her steely gaze back to Annabel. “I’ve been well briefed about this wanton little hussy. Well I’ll brook none of that behavior in Mr. Van Hook’s household. Strict discipline, absolute cleanliness, and many hours of hard work will soon cure this little tramp of her lustful ways. Well come on, young lady, don’t just stand there.t as much interest in the opposite sex as a nun! well,.”

At first, Annabel couldn’t make her legs move, so Barclay gave her another pat on the ass and said, “After you, my lady!”

As Annabel haltingly entered the house, she heard Veronica say, “Where do you think you are going?”

She looked up nervously, only to discover that Veronica was addressing Barclay. The lecherous butler paused, mid-stride on the threshold, and said, “I thought you might be needing my assistance.”

“Not at all,” Veronica said curtly. “I’m perfectly capable of taking it from here. I’m sure you have other duties to attend to at Pemberton Hall”

In less forbidding circumstances, Annabel would have grinned at the crestfallen look on Barclay’s face. How the old pervert must have been looking forward to watching Annabel suffer another humiliating ordeal.

“But… I-I could…” Barclay stammered.

Cutting him off, Veronica said, “It was very nice to see you again Alastair, but I want to get Annabel settled in before the master of the house comes home. Now, good day.”

After closing the door on him, Veronica turned briskly on her heel and said to Annabel, “Follow me.”

Trailing behind the daunting woman, Annabel watched the seductive sway of Veronica’s hips as she clip-clopped in her heels across the polished floor. There was no doubting her innate sensuality, but it was tempered by the aura of power she exuded. This was not a woman to be crossed lightly, as evidenced by Barclay’s meek capitulation. Yes, Veronica was clearly a strict disciplinarian, and now that Annabel was totally under her control, she wondered sadly what the next few weeks would hold in store for her!

 

 

 

Chapter One Hundred and Seven

Looking around at the opulent decor, Annabel couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia for Pemberton Hall. She had grown up in surroundings such as these, and up until her enforced tenure under Darius Nash, had taken them pretty much for granted. Now it almost felt as if that life had never really existed, and she truly felt overawed by the high ceilings, twinkling chandeliers, and marble floors.

Veronica led her through to the back of the house, out through a French window, and onto a patio dotted with ornamental statues. Beyond, an expansive lawn surrounded by ancient trees enveloped a large kidney-shaped swimming pool. Annabel gazed wistfully at the sparkling clear water as she recalled the many idle hours she and her friends had spent sunbathing by the pool at Pemberton Hall. But even those cherished memories had now been tainted by her last poolside experience at Helen’s house, and she cringed inwardly as she thought afresh of the humiliations she had been forced to endure in front of her former friends that awful day.

They followed a brick pathway around the side of the house and through a plain wooden door into a spacious utility room. Two male cooks were chopping vegetables at a kitchen table on the left, while over on the right two Asian girls loaded a washing machine with white sheets. Everyone stopped and looked up when they came in, and to her dismay, Annabel felt herself blushing.

“Staff, I want you all to meet Annabel, the new scullery maid,” Veronica said, clapping her hands. “She will be working here for the next few weeks. Annabel, meet Ivan and Milo who are the chef and sous-chef respectively, and the two maids here are Rita and Cornelia. Later on I will introduce you to Rafael the gardener, and Higgins the chauffeur. As scullery maid, you rank the lowest in the household staff, and you will do exactly as you are told by them. Is that clear?”

Scullery maid! The old-fashioned title couldn’t have been more appropriate considering the stark contrast between this barren room and the lavish furnishings she had just passed through. Even the pale blue house coats worn by the two maids, and the white uniforms of the two cooks looked outdated. It was almost as if she had just stepped through a time portal back to the Victorian era!

Annabel nodded dejectedly, trying to avoid the curious expressions on the faces of her new superiors. During her years growing up at Pemberton Hall, a procession of staff from various different countries of origin had waited on her and her aunt – and Annabel had treated them all like the low-life she believed them to be. She had never been unfair or nasty with them, but she had always felt it proper that everybody should know their position in the household. Now the tables had been fully turned, and she faced the awful prospect of having to jump to the commands of the very type of people she had once looked down upon!

Over the past few months of degradation and servitude at the hands of Nash and his cronies, Annabel had learned a lot about herself, in particular, how much she was able to endure. She had already half-resigned herself to the fact that she would be suffering many more indignities here, but the more she saw how much this place paralleled the surroundings of her own upbringing, the harder she knew this was going to be. Yet again, she held fast to her only hope of salvation – the knowledge that when this terrible year was finally over, she would be restored to her rightful place at the top of the social pecking order.

“Answer when I speak to you, young lady,” Veronica said. “And stop looking at your feet!”

Her cheeks burning even brighter, Annabel raised her chin and found herself looking straight into the eyes of Ivan the chef. He was wiping his hands on a towel, and appraising her with a look that she recognized all too well from the various middle-aged perverts that Nash had already forced upon her. Looking quickly away, she mumbled, “Yes, Veronica.”

Without warning, Veronica, lashed out and cuffed Annabel around the ear. Annabel’s head jerked forward and when she looked up again, her eyes were watering and her ear felt like it was glowing.

“You will refer to me as Mistress Veronica at all times,” Veronica snapped. “Is that understood?”

“Y-Yes, Mistress Veronica!” Annabel stammered shakily, and to her chagrin, she heard one of the watching maids titter in amusement.

“Good. Very well people, now that you all know what she looks like, I’m going to take her to her quarters. Back to work everybody - chop chop!”

Relieved at the opportunity to get away from the scrutiny of the others, Annabel followed Veronica through a doorway leading straight onto a dimly-lit concrete staircase, and as they descended beneath the house, Annabel’s sense of foreboding returned. At the bottom of the steps, they passed under an archway, and after Veronica flicked on the light, Annabel looked around with growing dismay.

They were in a cellar perhaps thirty by thirty feet, with wooden beams that supported a low ceiling, and bare brick walls surrounding a concrete floor. Directly in the middle of the room was a steel frame bed and a thin mattress with some items of clothing on top. Bolted to one wall was a metal rail from which hung an assortment of clothes, and beneath it, a collection of shoes sat on a shoe-rack. Against the adjacent wall was a simple porcelain commode with no seat, and a few feet away, a stainless steel shower head stuck out of the wall above a shallow step-in basin. The only other furniture in the room was a standing wash basin adorned with some basic items for ablution purposes, and beside it a plain full length mirror was screwed to the wall.

That was it. No chairs, no dresser, and certainly no television!

This is where I shall be sleeping for the next few weeks? By comparison, her cramped room in Nash’s brownstone suddenly seemed rather inviting!

Looking around, Annabel then spotted a gray metal door that almost blended in with the bland concrete walls of the cellar. It had a single padlocked bolt and a small square window at head height. It looked rather like the door to a prison cell, and Annabel found it so sinister-looking that a shiver ran down her spine.

“What’s through there, Mistress Veronica?” she asked timidly.

“Don’t worry yourself about that now,” Veronica said, before adding, “You’ll find out in good time.”

Annabel picked up a peculiar quiver to Veronica’s voice when she said that, and she quickly glanced up at her. Sure enough, that same glint of desire that she had seen in her other tormentors so many times recently, was now present in her new boss’s eyes. Annabel’s stomach twisted inside as she instinctively deduced that her question had implications of a dark and almost certainly sexual nature. Whatever did lay behind that door, Annabel definitely didn’t want to know about it now!

“Yes, well, as you can see,” Veronica said, “you have everything you need here. You should be comfortable enough. Now I want you to take a shower and then dress in the clothes provided on the bed. I’ll be back in half an hour, so you’d better be ready.”

Annabel listened to the sound of Veronica’s heels on the steps, and when she heard the door close at the top, she stepped out of her sandals. The concrete was cool under her bare feet and she felt rather vulnerable getting undressed in such a barren room. She raised her head as she prepared to tug her tunic off - and that was when she spotted the first of the surveillance cameras in the ceiling.

 

 

 

Chapter One Hundred and Eight

Annabel froze. She was no technology expert, but she knew enough that the dark glass semi-sphere in the ceiling directly above her bed was not a light bulb. Aunt Sissy had the same type of cameras installed in various locations around Pemberton Hall. She let go of the neck of her tunic and scanned the rest of the ceiling. There were two more tucked in opposite corners and another in the space between the toilet bowl and the open shower. No wonder they hadn’t supplied her with the privacy of a bathroom - somebody was watching her!

Annabel’s heart began to beat faster at the terrible implications of this latest discovery. Even though she had already endured dozens of humiliating and often painful tests of her sufferance, she was ill-prepared for this unfamiliar new game. Although Nash was gradually expanding the circle of witnesses to Annabel’s descent, she had at least been able to see who she was dealing with. But now she was utterly clueless as to the identity of her peeping tom. Was it the owner of the house? Perhaps all of the staff members she had just met were huddled around a monitor at this moment waiting for her to strip naked and shower for them. Or worse, could the cameras be linked to a computer which was right now streaming her live to thousands of paying customers around the world?

It was absurd that after having been debased in the worst ways imaginable, that she should be so terrified of exposing herself in front of a hidden audience, and yet she found herself rooted to the floor with a paralyzing attack of stage fright!

With Veronica’s parting words still ringing in her ears, Annabel knew that she had no choice but to comply with her instructions. Regardless of who might be watching her, if she wasn’t showered and changed by the time Veronica returned, Annabel knew she would undoubtedly incur a punishment. Her ear was still throbbing and Annabel was willing to bet that a cuff around the head was the lightest of sentences that could be dished out by the hard-faced bitch.

With a sigh of resignation, Annabel once again grasped the neck of her tunic, and this time she reluctantly pulled the simple garment up over her head.

 

*

 

In his sumptuous office on the penthouse floor of the high-rise building that housed the law firm of Bale, Thomas and Farringdon, David Van hook watched the adorable red-head remove her tunic. He was impressed. Not just because of her feminine loveliness, but also because after several months in captivity, she was still apparently still in control of her mental faculties.

He had observed with interest how she had hesitated after spotting the ceiling cameras – they were not concealed from view quite deliberately because that was what Van Hook had intended. For him, her knowledge that she was being scrutinized in intimate detail was vital because her mental and emotional torment was every bit as important as the physical suffering she would soon be enduring.

He touched an icon on the monitor and the camera zoomed in on her semi naked body. She was braless, although she was denying him the chance to scrutinize her breasts by crossing her forearms over them. Van Hook smiled at her endearing attempts at modesty. Although he had never met the man, Van Hook had used his lofty position within the Fraternity to procure a dossier on Darius Nash, and from what he had read about him, it was certain that young Annabel would by now have become accustomed to performing various depraved and shameful acts that she could never have previously conceived of in her former life.

Van Hook could have obtained all of Nash’s digital evidence of these pornographic depravities, but that would have taken the pleasure of discovery out of this moment. The beautiful part was that despite all that Nash must have put her through, here she was in a brand new environment, acting just as coyly as if she were starting her ordeal all over again. And in a way she was, because as he lustfully watched her bend forward and work her cotton knickers over her thighs whilst covering her breasts with her other hand, David Van Hook had already decided that he was going to turn this lovely young specimen into his personal pet!

 

*

 

Stark naked and feeling as if the eyes of the whole world were upon her, Annabel stepped into the exposed shower stall. Nervously, she picked up a block of pink soap and its tar-like scent immediately took Annabel’s mind back to her last horrible assignment at the shelter for the homeless. At least today, she thought wryly, she wasn’t being forced to parade naked in front of a bunch of dirty old hobos with the soap jammed into her mouth!

Turning her back on the spartan room, Annabel turned on the old-fashioned faucet and then yelped as her body was engulfed by a cascade of icy water that took her breath away! Resisting the impulse to jump out of the stall, she quickly began to soap herself. Acutely aware that there was a camera almost directly above her, she tried to angle her body so that her breasts weren’t on display to whoever might be watching. The absurdity of her attempts at modesty weren’t lost on her considering the manifold depraved acts she had been forced to perform, and yet she felt compelled to protect herself as best she could. Whoever these people were, they were strangers who had never seen her most intimate parts, and the idea of exposing herself to a brand new audience made her mentally cringe with embarrassment!

She didn’t want to stand in that cold shower any longer than was necessary, so she set about washing herself briskly, bending as slightly as possible when she lathered her calves, and making sure not to touch her crotch or breasts. When she was rinsed off, Annabel turned the shower off, and grabbed the only towel from the nearby rail. The thin cotton towel was so small it was actually little more than a facecloth, and Annabel was beginning to realize that everything in this room had been put there only to maximize her vulnerability. Gamely, Annabel toweled herself as dry as possible before returning to the bed with her hands across her breasts and the damp towel covering her pubes. Now it was time to find out what they wanted her to wear today.

 

*

 

Van Hook leaned in a little closer to his monitor as Annabel perched herself on the edge of the bed, knees together, arms across her chest, and the inadequate towel strategically placed on her lap. Her uniform was laid out beside her and she contemplated it for a moment, before picking up a pair of black panties. Van Hook zoomed in the camera to get a better look.

He had given Veronica plenty of latitude as to how she should handle their newest acquisition, but he had set out a basic set of guidelines, and he had every confidence that his kinky, lesbian housekeeper would not let him down. And by allowing Veronica to punish and humiliate Annabel in her own way, Van Hook was afforded the added voyeuristic pleasure of surprise. Step one of this adventure was all about watching from afar, reveling in the discomfiture of his unbalanced young prey, whilst building up anticipation for the infinitely more personal encounters to come.

Even so, Van Hook was the producer of this show, and everybody in the household - including Veronica - were his players. His role was to create the setting and circumstances, and then sit back and enjoy the outcome. It was like watching a sexually twisted version of Big Brother!

As the creator of his own show, he had personally selected Annabel’s kinky maid’s outfit, right down to the black panties that the young woman was now holding out in front of her. And unbeknown to Annabel, or even Veronica, those innocuous-looking panties were going to be the centerpiece of this episode. To the eye, they looked like a regular pair that would fit snugly around Annabel’s around buttocks and vulva. No doubt the hapless girl would feel humiliated enough having to show off even these innocuous-looking panties in front of the staff – it was underwear, after all, and women were very private about that sort of thing – but after the sequence of events that he was expecting, came into play, she and everybody else involved would be amazed at what would happen next.

It was the material that was the key. Using his money and a contact at a private research center, Van Hook had commissioned a little personal development of an as-yet unpatented fabric that was specifically designed to shrink when wet. Its original purpose had something to do with diaper linings, but Van Hook had succeeded in acquiring a quantity of items of clothing manufactured from an enhanced version of this fabric - which would shrink considerably faster than its inventor had originally intended!

He hadn’t mentioned any of this when he had handed Annabel’s costume to Veronica, of course, but he had provided her with strict instructions to make sure that the underwear got wet, no matter what. How Veronica planned to do that was up to her, but she knew from past experience that whenever he ‘scripted’ a particularly scenario, she had to make it look as natural as possible - it was all a part of the show.

Now he watched eagerly as Annabel contemplated getting into her unique underwear as modestly as she could. Although she had successfully managed to keep her front side averted from the cameras when she was showering, getting dressed with the same level of decorum was sure to prove far more difficult.

By now she must have convinced herself that she was being observed by persons unknown, as evidenced by the look of apprehension in those pretty blue eyes. Indeed, notwithstanding the obvious delights of her curvaceous body, it was Annabel’s eyes that captivated Van Hook the most. Her body language displayed a certain degree of, if not defeat, then resignation to her plight, but in those fathomless eyes, Van hook saw shame and misery but also the unmistakable glint of defiance! Oh yes, the young heiress was still holding on to something of her former self deep inside, and that was what thrilled Van Hook about the prospect of testing her to her very limits!

 

 

 

Chapter One Hundred and Nine

Vividly recalling the humiliating maid’s outfit that Darius Nash had previously forced her to dress up in, Annabel held up the black panties cautiously. She was a little surprised – and relieved – to find that they weren’t more revealing, particularly as a quick glance at the rest of this uniform told her that whoever was in charge of this twisted production was clearly cast from the same ilk as Nash.

With a resigned sigh, she couldn’t help glancing up at the nearest camera before leaning forward and threading her right foot through one of the leg holes. After maneuvering her left foot into the other opening, she awkwardly worked the garment up her legs whilst managing to keep them together with the towel in place over her crotch, and keeping an arm across her breasts. She quickly sought out the black bra, and wasn’t entirely shocked to discover that it was a push-up job. Now she moved quickly, briefly exposing her nipples before pulling the cups in place and then fastening the bra-strap. She looked up straight into her reflection in the wall mirror and saw that the snug-fitting bra had pushed her bust obscenely up and out! Still, at least she was now relatively decent and could finish dressing with a little more composure.

Just like the uniform she had worn at Nash’s house, the black dress was so small that it stopped short at the tops of her thighs, and the neckline was so low that her thrusting breasts almost popped out of the top! Worried that Veronica could return at any moment, Annabel tied the white apron around her waist and then slipped the single white garter belt up over her right thigh. All that remained on the bed was a white lace headband which she guessed was supposed to serve as a demeaning little cap. There were no shoes under the bed, and although there was a selection on the rack by the wall, Annabel had learned, if nothing else over the past few months, to obey instructions exactly. That meant, she sadly concluded, she would be carrying out her duties barefoot and Cinderella-style.

Still mindful of the cameras above her, Annabel stood and surveyed herself in the mirror. Her outfit was similar to the ridiculous cosplay uniform that Nash had dressed her up in, but when she turned around and looked over her shoulder, Annabel saw that there was actually one very noticeable difference – the dress had been specially cut so that the hem rode high up at the rear, completely exposing her panties!

After the numerous times she had been forced to expose herself publically over the past few months, Annabel might have expected to have developed a certain immunity to the embarrassment this caused her – but it wasn’t working out like that at all! The thought of having her rear end on display – albeit covered - in front of other staff members made her cringe inwardly. She reached behind and tried to pull the hem down but she discovered that her efforts were a mere futile gesture at modesty. Resigned to her fate, Annabel sat on the end of the bed and stared forlornly at the mysterious metal door in the wall.

 

*

 

At her desk in the small store room that also served as her office, Veronica watched with interest and growing arousal as Annabel awkwardly attempted to hide her privates while she showered and dressed.

Mr. Van Hook had provided her with a background dossier on the girl, and she had learned that Annabel came from a privileged background. She also knew that she had been at the mercy of Darius Nash for the past few months - a nasty little creep whom Veronica had once had the misfortune to have to worked with. However, as much as she despised the greasy low-life, Veronica had to admit that they had a great deal in common when it came to dark and dirty desires!

She could only imagine how many times young Annabel had been forced to copulate with him, and the thought of his fat hairy body writhing on top of this young beauty filled Veronica with disgust. Of course, Mr. Van Hook would also be partaking in more than his fair share of Annabel’s bodily delights, but that was different - Mr. Van Hook was a gentleman of money and breeding, and although Veronica had witnessed firsthand how cruelly he liked to treat defenseless young women, his sadistic nature was, to her, quite fitting bearing in mind his position in the social strata.

Regardless of whatever Mr. Van Hook had planned for Annabel, there would still be many hours available when he was at work or away on business, leaving their hapless young victim to cater to Veronica’s every deviant whim!

She focused again on the screen, taking in every enticing detail of her pretty new scullery maid, her thrusting bosom, her angelic, yet mutinous blue eyes, her badly-cut mop of glossy red hair, and her shapely bare legs crossed demurely as she awaited Veronica’s return. Veronica had indeed toyed with the idea of deliberately returning early to catch her out, but she had become so engrossed by Annabel’s unenthusiastic performance that it took her a moment to realize that the titillating little show was now over. Composing herself, Veronica stood, straightened her skirt, and then went down to the cellar.

 

*

 

Before she realized what she had done, Annabel was standing to attention beside her bed as soon as Veronica strode into the room. The unnerving woman stood before her, arms folded across her chest, as she carefully appraised Annabel’s belittling uniform.

“Turn around, girl.”

Cheeks flushing furiously, and acutely aware of the ridiculous spectacle she must be presenting, Annabel did as she was told.

“Oh very nice, a perfect fit that will ensure your plump ass is always on offer for a thrashing whenever you misbehave!” Veronica said. “Now turn back and face me.”

After Annabel completed her slow pirouette, she was surprised to find that Veronica had moved even closer to her and due to the woman’s extremely high heels, Annabel was practically at eye level with Veronica’s prominent bust! It occurred to her then that one of the reasons she was being kept barefoot was to ensure that she remained at a lower physical height than everybody else – a symbolic reminder of her humble position in this unfamiliar household.

Embarrassed by the close proximity of Veronica’s jutting breasts, Annabel averted her gaze, but Veronica gripped her by the chin and tilting her head up, stared intently into Annabel’s eyes.

“Yes,” Veronica said, her breath sweet and warm on Annabel’s face. “You appear to be afraid, but I still detect a glimmer of resistance in those pretty blue eyes. Somewhere in there, you are still clinging on to your former pride in anticipation of your eventual freedom, isn’t that so, Miss Annabel of Pemberton Hall? I think the master of the house has chosen well. You won’t be completely broken without a fight – which is exactly what he wants!”

She abruptly let go of Annabel’s chin and turned on her heel. “Come along, it’s time to put you to work!”

Watching the seductive sway of Veronica’s hips as she disappeared through the archway, Annabel tried to absorb the terrible implications of her mistress’s words. As she had feared, Annabel was indeed going to become a new pawn in somebody’s sick game of control and domination. And she had a very bad premonition that her life was going to become even worse than it had been under Nash’s control – if that was at all possible!

Following Veronica’s echoing footsteps, Annabel hurried to catch up, the stone steps cool under her bare feet. When they reached the door to the utility room, the prospect of working shoeless in front of everybody inexplicably made her feel even more exposed than the absurdly high hemline at the back of her dress!

 

 

 

Chapter One Hundred and Ten

Before descending to Annabel’s cellar, Veronica had instructed Rita to set a bowl of water and a scrubbing brush on the utility room floor. The two Filipina maids had already gone off to another part of the house, but the items were duly waiting in a corner of the laundry area which would afford the two male cooks an unobstructed view of their new subordinate as she carried out the first of her demeaning tasks. This was exactly in line with Mr. Van Hook’s directive of course, and Veronica felt another little quiver of excitement as she anticipated Annabel’s reaction to her first act of forced exhibitionism in this house. She had no idea why Mr. Van Hook specifically wanted Annabel’s panties to get soaked, but he was the boss, and Veronica had already passed this on to Ivan.

Adopting a falsely professional demeanor, Veronica gestured to the bowl and said, “You can start by scrubbing the floor tiles. I hope you won’t find that too difficult.”

When she received no reply, Veronica turned and saw that Annabel was still cowering in the doorway. Her cheeks had turned a beautifully deep shade of pink, and her wide blue eyes were fixed on the washing bowl with dismay.

“Come along, girl!” Veronica snapped. “Get over here and get down on your hands and knees.”

When Annabel still failed to move, Veronica said, “Or perhaps you’d prefer to have your ass whipped right here in the scullery in front of everybody?”

The threat of such a humiliation clearly outweighed Annabel’s reluctance to display herself in her absurd costume because she let out a gasp and whimpered, “N-no! Please don’t!”

As Annabel nervously shuffled into the room, Veronica was pleased to note that Ivan and Milo were now leaning on the kitchen island and taking in the proceedings with interest. Pretending not to notice them, Veronica said, “Hurry up, girl! There’s plenty more work for you to do today!”

Trying to keep her backside hidden from the two grinning cooks, Annabel slowly dropped to her knees in front of the bowl. The wooden scrubbing brush was fitted with a plastic handle through which Annabel now slipped her slender fingers, and then gingerly dipped the bristles into the water.

Then she began to scrub, making sure to position herself sideways on, in an attempt to prevent the cooks from getting a good look at either her underwear or her wobbling cleavage. The poor wretch’s feeble attempts at modesty only served to fuel Veronica’s mounting excitement, and trying to keep the thrill out of her voice, she said, “I want you to get right into the corners and up against the skirting. You can’t possibly do it from that angle, so you’ll have to swivel around.”

Annabel raised her head and briefly opened her mouth in protest, but obviously reconciled to the fact that she was in a trap from which there would be no escape, she tentatively inched her way around until her beautifully prominent ass was now directed towards the whole room. Veronica feasted her eyes on Annabel’s firm round buttocks straining beneath the taut black fabric of the panties, as Ivan let out a low whistle and muttered, “Sweet Jesus! Check out those peaches, Milo!”

Veronica felt a pleasant throbbing sensation in her belly as she noticed a slight stiffening of Annabel’s shoulders. Although the girl had already been trained by Darius Nash to obey, her body language, however imperceptible, betrayed the inner turmoil that seethed within her. Oh yes, this one was definitely a fighter, a young woman of privilege who fully intended to retake her place at the top of the social pile when her year of submission was finally up.

And that was exactly what Veronica - and Mr. Van Hook - wanted. Where was the pleasure in tormenting a broken soul that no longer possessed the self-esteem to even care? It was the shame, the outrage, and the sense of utter helplessness imposed upon the proud victim that excited Veronica so intensely!

She glanced again at the two cooks who were still hungrily ogling Annabel’s voluptuous rear end, and this time Ivan caught her eye and winked. Having set the scene, Veronica was ready to step back and watch the cooks get involved in Annabel’s persecution - and she knew she could totally rely on the middle-aged, pot-bellied lecher for that. There had been several other unfortunate wenches in Mr. Van Hook’s ‘employ’ in recent years, and after initial concerns about possible culpability, Ivan had become an eager participant in their sexual torments. Mr. Van Hook was a very well connected and influential man, and intricate measures - some using the stick, others the carrot - were always put in place to ensure that his prey didn’t go to the authorities after Van Hook had tired of playing with them. Confident then, that he was free to act out his basest desires with impunity, Ivan would already be licking his lips at the prospect of playing with this delectable young morsel of a girl!

Milo on the other hand was new here, and the spotted-faced youth, not much older than Annabel herself, would undoubtedly be shocked once Ivan got to work on her. This added element of surprise spiced up the games even more. Even if Milo refused to join in, he would be quickly convinced to keep his mouth shut about what he had witnessed. It would be interesting however, to see how he reacted when faced with such an enticing opportunity.

Regardless, Mr. Van Hook would undoubtedly be keeping an eye on proceedings from his office, and he would be impatient to see what happened next. So too, was Veronica, and she said, “I have things do, so I’m putting Ivan in charge, and you will do exactly as he tells you. Am I clear, Annabel?”

“Y-yes, Mistress Veronica,” Annabel mumbled.

“Very well. I shall be back to inspect your progress later.”

 

*

 

Annabel listened to the now-familiar sound of Veronica’s high heels, followed by the door closing. She was now alone with two men, in the most vulnerable position a girl could possibly find herself in!

Deeply aware of the presence of her male onlookers, Annabel tried to focus upon her pointless task. With just a bowl of plain water to scrub already spotless tiles, it was all too obvious by now that her ‘job’ here was just a charade. Just as she had been dreading all along, she was again a part of some twisted game, in which she was the central character. Having been subjected to such puerile indignities dozens of times by Nash and his ilk didn’t make this current scenario any easier to deal with however. Perhaps it was the large house with its trappings of wealth that intimidated her so much – the very surroundings that she had grown up accustomed to. Now she was on the other side of the fence, and the unsettling part was that a tiny voice in her head was suggesting that she actually belonged there!

As she began to scrub, a shadow fell across the wall, and Annabel drew in a sharp breath. One of the cooks was standing right behind her, probably just inches from her proffered rear-end! After a brief pause, Annabel began to scrub away again, head down, in the vain hope that he would go away.

“Can I help you with that bowl, honey?”

It was Ivan, of course, the fat, older one with the bulbous nose and sleazy eyes. Still keeping her face averted Annabel glanced to the right. In her anxious state, she had moved a couple of feet away from the bowl of water without realizing it.

“N-no, it’s okay,” she stammered, and started to shuffle back over to the bowl, but a pudgy hand landed on her back, and Annabel froze.

“Let me,” Ivan said.

His shadow moved on the wall, and she heard the water sloshing around in the bowl, and then, to her utter shock, she felt the contents of the bowl cascade all over her backside! Startled, Annabel sat up on her knees as the water pooled around her. In spite of her concerns as to what Ivan might do to her next, her main concern was the likelihood of Veronica punishing her for this! Her panties and the hem of her dress were absolutely soaked!

“Oops!” Ivan said. “Lost my grip.”

Still with her back to him, Annabel felt both of his hands on her shoulders now, and she stiffened as he firmly pushed her forward. Oh! Stop touching me!

“Just carry on as Mistress Veronica instructed you,” he said in a soothing tone. “I’ll tell her it was an accident.”

Reluctantly, Annabel allowed him to press her back down into her former prone position, and she hesitatingly started to scrub then tiles again. She just knew she was going to get into trouble for this, but there was nothing she could do about it. Resigning herself to her fate, she continued with her menial chore, and was relieved to see Ivan’s shadow retreat from the white wall in front of her. After feeling his fingers upon her, she had been bracing herself for a more intimate groping, but puzzled as she was that it didn’t materialize, she had no option other than to keep her nose to the tiles and hope she was going to get away with it.

Even though her scrubbing was making absolutely no difference to the immaculate tiles, Annabel figured she had to go through the motions, and with her wet panties clinging uncomfortably to her buttocks, she shuffled along towards the center of the wall.

For a while she worked in silence, the only sounds being the rasping of her brush and the clinking of pans that meant the two cooks had thankfully returned to their work. But as she continued, Annabel suddenly became aware that something quite alarming was beginning to happen to her underwear!

 

 

 

Chapter One Hundred and Eleven

Alone in his penthouse office, Van Hook unzipped his fly and freed his erect cock. With his right hand, he casually massaged himself, whilst using his free hand to zoom the utility room camera until Annabel’s delectable butt filled the frame. He had observed the dramatic shrinkage of this innovative synthetic material in a laboratory before, but now he was finally going to see it working its wicked magic on an unsuspecting victim!

For him, the concept was perfect – Annabel would very quickly start to feel the fabric constricting around her crotch, but under Veronica’s strict orders, she would be hesitant to do anything about it. Nevertheless, as soon as it became apparent to her that the material was going to keep on constricting until it bunched up between her cunt lips, surely she would instinctively reach around in an attempt to adjust the rapidly disappearing gusset. What a dilemma for his blushing new maid!

Keeping his fist moving up and down his throbbing member, Van Hook watched closely as the black synthetic fabric molded itself neatly around Annabel’s buns. Its progress wasn’t perceptible to the human eye, and yet there was no doubting that the previously loose-fitting panties were now a much tighter fit. Gradually, the leg openings began to bite into the soft flesh of Annabel’s lower buttocks, not too visually obvious as yet, but on Van Hook’s computer screen, little bulging ridges of skin around the outsides of the garment were just becoming noticeable.

He panned the camera back slightly and feasted his eyes upon the gusset, which was now clinging to Annabel’s pubic mound, and presenting him with a delightfully pronounced rear view of her camel toe. Van Hook knew from the laboratory tests that there would be no respite from the relentless contraction of this fabric until it completely dried out, and that was not going to happen for a while. The only remaining question was which would snap first – the amazing shrinking panties, or Annabel’s self-control?

 

*

 

Veronica finished completing her daily housekeeping entries, and closed her laptop. Ordinarily, she would now give the upstairs rooms a quick inspection, see what Rafael doing in the garden, and then check in to make sure that Mr. Hook would still be home for dinner in the evening. It was not uncommon for him to change his plans at the last minute and dine out with colleagues or clients, but Veronica was confident that would not be the case tonight – not with his newest plaything waiting for him!

Higgins the chauffeur – a misogynistic old swine if ever she knew one – hadn’t messaged her with any change of plans either, so she needed to make sure that events were proceeding in the right direction. Although Van Hook hadn’t explicitly explained why he wanted Annabel’s panties soaked, Veronica hadn’t been able to stop thinking about them in the fifteen minutes she had been away. The thought of young Annabel in damp underwear was in itself enough to bring stirrings to her loins, but the one thing she had learned about her boss was that he was always springing surprises - something unexpected was going to take place.

Leaving her cramped office, Veronica hurried downstairs, but before opening the utility room door, she took a deep breath and calmed herself. Mr. Van Hook would be watching, and he would be expecting her to play her usual role of the strict housekeeper. No matter how excited she felt inside, Veronica must outwardly project the impression that she regarded Annabel as nothing more than a stupid, worthless girl.

Through the door she could hear to two Filipina maids’ high-pitched giggling over the dulcet tones of Annabel’s protestations. Veronica counted silently to three and turned the door handle in anticipation – the next stage of Mr. Van Hook’s depraved show was apparently already underway.

When she opened the door, her eyes were immediately drawn to Annabel’s thrust-out rump. The young faux-maid was still on her knees scrubbing the tiles with her right hand, but she had moved her left arm behind her so that the back of her hand was covering the cleft between her buttocks.

The reason for adopting this awkward position was immediately apparent. In the back of her mind, Veronica had already surmised that Annabel’s panties were made of no ordinary fabric. And it should have come as no surprise really to discover that her employer had somehow managed to source a synthesized compound that reacted so quickly when in contact with water. In the brief time that Veronica had been away, Annabel’s underwear had already constricted to tiny proportions. What had previously been a sensible pair of knickers had now been reduced to nothing more than a tiny g-string – and judging from Annabel’s squirming backside, the rapidly contracting garment wasn’t done yet!

The rest of the staff had, of course, stopped working when they had spotted the activity taking place around Annabel’s most private bodily area. Rita, the older of the two maids, was openly laughing and pointing as the thin black waistband of the panties bit cruelly into Annabel’s soft flesh. Cornelia, about the same age as Annabel herself, had her hand over pressed over her mouth to stifle her own giggles. Ivan was leaning on the kitchen counter, grinning rudely at Annabel’s plight – and no doubt proud of his part in it – while to Veronica’s satisfaction, Milo was watching with rapt concentration. Ordinarily, Veronica would have told them all to get back to work, but that would not be what Mr. Van Hook wanted at all – the more witnesses there were to Annabel’s involuntarily indecent exposure, the more intense her shame and humiliation!

It was time for Veronica to take charge of the scene, and in a sharp, officious tone, she said, “What’s this? Why are you touching yourself, Annabel?”

Hearing the voice of her supervisor, Annabel braced her shoulders and turned her head slightly, showing everyone the profile of her beetroot-red cheek. “I-I… there’s something w-wrong…” she stammered, still protecting her crotch with her hand.

“That is not how you scrub tiles!” Veronica barked, unable to completely suppress the slight tremor in her voice. “Put your left hand back on the floor right now! And why is the bowl empty already? My goodness, girl, there’s water everywhere! What have you been doing? I gave you a simple task to complete, and you’ve been playing around instead! Now put your hand down immediately and get back to it!”

With a little sob of frustration, Annabel slowly moved her arm away, and in doing so presented everyone in the room with an unimpeded view of her hairless hammock. Veronica literally caught her breath as she drank in the sight of the gusset – now nothing more than a thin strip of black fabric – worming its way in between Annabel’s deliciously puffy labia!

“Oh, my God, look! Where have her knickers gone?” Rita shrieked.

Conscious of Mr. Van Hook’s omnipotent presence, Veronica knew that she was required to play out this charade to its inevitable conclusion. And even though it was painfully obvious to all and sundry – even the gawping youth, Milo – that Annabel had absolutely nothing to do with what was happening between her legs, it was essential that she be made to feel responsible. The fact that Annabel would constantly be the victim in this house was irrelevant – it was her sense of guilt and shame that would provide the fuel for Van Hook’s erotic adventures. With enough chastisement and verbal haranguing, Annabel would eventually come to believe that she was truly responsible for her miserable circumstances!

Right now, the woeful girl was looking extremely distressed as her bare buttocks wriggled from side to side while the unyielding material sank deeper into her crotch. All eyes were fixed upon Annabel’s most secret place, and no doubt like Veronica, everybody else was wondering exactly how much more this mysterious textile was going to shrink.

Suddenly, Annabel raised her head and hissed between her teeth. “Ooh, it hurts! P-please, Mistress Veronica… please make it stop!”

Spellbound, Veronica heard herself say, “I have no idea what you are talking about, girl. But if you persist with this shameful display, you will be most sorry!”

“She’s a dirty little slut!” Ivan chuckled. “She wants us to look at her pussy! See how horny she is?”

And to Veronica’s delight, that much was true. There was no denying Annabel’s obvious emotional pain, but judging from her damp and swollen cunt lips, on a physical level at least, the hapless and tormented girl was actually deriving considerable sexual gratification from her humiliation!

What remained of Annabel’s underwear was now nothing more than a t-shaped black line cutting viciously into her waist and crotch. The discomfort must have been reaching almost unbearable levels by now, and yet Annabel was admirably keeping her groaning and whining down to a minimum. Veronica was undecided at what point she should call a halt to the torture. Knowing her boss as she did, it was certain that he would be expecting to watch Annabel’s subsequent punishment for her ‘lewd’ behavior, but because she was unfamiliar with this newly contrived scenario, Veronica wasn’t exactly sure when would be the right time to implement it.

Her dilemma was solved almost immediately however, as with a sudden and resounding snap, the waistband of the panties flew apart, and, relieved of the upward tension, the narrow strip between Annabel’s labia dallied for a second - no doubt lightly adhered to the luckless girl’s bodily secretions - before dropping between her thighs, leaving Annabel’s pink and glistening honeypot on display for all to see!

 

 

 

 

Chapter One Hundred and Twelve

Oh, No!

With a squeal of horror, Annabel felt the waistband go. The split-second relief from her physical discomfort was immediately obliterated by the shocking awareness that her bare crotch was now fully exposed to the entire room! Her instinctive reaction was to put her hand back up behind her, but no sooner had she lifted her palm off the tiles than she heard Veronica snap, “You disgusting tramp! What do you think you are doing?”

Unsure whether her cruel mistress was referring to her now-aborted attempt to cover herself, or to the fact that she was now totally naked from the waist down, Annabel stayed perfectly still and screwed her eyes tight shut. As with so many of these sick games over the past months, she again found herself in a no-win situation. She was still totally bewildered by what had been going on around her nether regions – how could a pair of panties shrink so fast? – but that question was irrelevant to her current dilemma. The simple reality was that nobody had ripped them off her, they had simply come apart, and now she just knew that the sadistic housekeeper now hovering behind her was going to hold Annabel fully responsible for it!

The implications were all too familiar. Upon first laying eyes on Annabel a few hours earlier, Veronica had called her a ‘wanton little hussy’ which at the time had seemed unjustified considering they had never even met. Now it was all fitting together – as if Annabel hadn’t already had an inkling of what was to come. Not only was she the lowliest member of this bizarre household, but she was to be portrayed as a horny little slut to boot – the perfect set-up for whatever twisted games they had in store for her!

Regardless of what horrors lay ahead, Annabel’s immediate worry was with the here and now - down on all fours with her bare ass stuck up in the air, showing off her privates to a group of laughing strangers who were apparently quite willing to go along with the pretense that she was doing it all of her own volition! Eyes closed, her cheeks aflame, Annabel tried to ready herself for the inevitable retribution to come.

“I asked you a question, you little harlot!” Veronica said. “Why are you exposing yourself in public? These good people are trying to get on with their work. Do you honestly think they are interested in your smelly little beaver?”

With the odds stacked impossibly against her, Annabel knew that there could be no correct response to Veronica’s belittling question. If she answered in the affirmative, she would just be confirming the lie that was being woven around her, and despite everything, Annabel simply could not bring herself to do that. The alternative was to contradict Veronica’s lowly opinion of her, and that would surely bring severe consequences.

Even so, Annabel replied, “N-no, Mistress Veronica. There was something w-wrong with my… my…”

“Your what? Your panties? Are you suggesting Mr. Van Hook has provided you with a substandard wardrobe? I’m sure he’ll be very disappointed when I inform him of your ungrateful attitude.”

Even though Annabel had yet to meet her mysterious employer, Annabel was pretty certain that he was fully aware of the demeaning treatment she was enduring. Even if he wasn’t, she simply could not afford to take the risk of angering him.

“No, I-I didn’t mean that…” Annabel mumbled.

“So what did you mean?” Veronica interrupted. “That your fat ass couldn’t even fit into a normal pair of panties? Is that it?”

Annabel thought a moment before replying. The longer she resisted Veronica’s attempts to have her verbally concur that she was indeed an overweight slut, the longer she would have to remain down on the floor in this mortifying position.

Finally, with a sigh, she mumbled, “Y-Yes, Mistress Veronica, my fat ass broke the panties.”

The two Filipina maids tittered in unison, and Ivan said, “Look at her cunt lips – they’re all wet and puffy!”

Annabel wanted to curl up and die, but she had been through enough of these unfair and perverted games to know that if she didn’t play along, things would only get worse for her.

“You’re right, Ivan,” Veronica said. “She’s actually getting turned on by flashing her pussy at you. Well, I’m afraid there is no place in Mr. Van Hook’s household for that kind of behavior. Annabel will definitely have to be punished!”

 

*

 

It must have taken an act of extreme willpower for Annabel to remain down there in such an obscene posture, Veronica mused, as she relished the sight of the sorry girl’s pouting and moist labia. It was certainly an interesting turn of events that Annabel should be experiencing physical gratification from her public disgrace, and yet, she knew that people like Darius Nash were skilled practitioners in the art of physical and psychological remodeling. There was no doubt in Veronica’s mind that Annabel was loathing every second of her ordeal, and yet her treacherous body was reacting so favorably. What a confusing torment for the hapless girl!

“Because you have offended the rest of the staff with your lewd behavior,” Veronica said, “I think it would be fitting if they were to administer your punishment themselves. Perhaps a sound spanking would suffice. What do you think, people?”

“Really?” Rita chuckled. “We get to spank her?”

“Well she seems to be unable to resist showing off her bare ass, so I believe a few strokes from each of you across those wobbly cheeks would be quite appropriate, don’t you?”

By way of an answer, a wicked grin spread across Ivan’s face, Milo ran his tongue over his bottom lip, and even young Cornelia, always so quiet, clapped her hands together in delight. For her part, Annabel, now having given up her attempt at invisibility through motionlessness, craned her neck around, and whimpered, “Please no, Mistress Veronica! You do it - not them!”

Fascinating! Veronica thought. Even as conditioned as Annabel has become to being punished in public, the thought of having to submit to people who she still regards as inferior, is simply too much for her to bear! Just what I was hoping for!

“Excuse me? Are you forgetting yourself? You do not get to stipulate terms, young madam,” Veronica said. “You need to remember your place around here, and the best way for you to remember that is by learning from better people than yourself!”

Annabel briefly glanced up at Veronica before quickly lowering her eyes, but not before Veronica had spotted a little flash of umbrage in them. Oh yes, Miss Annabel of Pemberton Hall was still alive and kicking somewhere inside there, but she would remain buried out of sight as long as Veronica was in control. Besides, what chance did Annabel have of maintaining any dignity when she was naked from the waist down with her butt sticking up in the air? But if Annabel thought that she was to receive her humiliating chastisement in her current position, then she was sorely mistaken!

“Milo, would you please bring that chair over here?” Veronica said, indicating a plain wooden straight-backed chair. While the spotty youngster dragged the chair across, Veronica instructed Annabel to stand, and after the red-faced girl had reluctantly complied, then ordered her to bend over the back of the chair and grasp the base of the legs furthest from her. The back of the chair was high enough to compel Annabel to push out her ripe ass cheeks again, but, resistant to the last, the flustered young maid kept her shapely thighs pressed together.

“Place your feet on the outside of the chair legs,” Veronica said blandly, as if reciting a standard punishment procedure.

With her head down on the wooden seat, Annabel emitted a barely audible sigh as she once again exposed her most intimate parts to everybody in the room. And what a sight it was to behold, as Annabel waited for her punishment. Veronica couldn’t help noticing the bulge that had developed in the front of young Milo’s pants, and she had to wonder if the two enthusiastic Filipina maids were as wet between the legs as Veronica herself was right now.

“Where is her pubic hair?” Cornelia tittered, tilting her head for a better look at Annabel’s smooth vulva.

“The little whore is a shaver!” Ivan declared. “She wants us to see everything in detail!”

“Well she has got her wish,” Veronica said. “Now you may use your bare hands, or any other suitable items you can find here in the kitchen. So who wants to go first?”

 

 

 

 

Chapter One Hundred and Thirteen

Excellent! Veronica is exceeding even her own high standards!

With his other hand gently regulating the rigidity of his own joystick, Van Hook maneuvered the mousepad so that he had a forty-five degree angled view of Annabel’s proffered rear-end, which would present him with the best possible viewpoint of the action. Without audio, he had been following proceedings with the keen curiosity of a peeping tom, and now that he saw the semi-naked maid had been rudely arranged over the back of a kitchen chair, a spanking was clearly forthcoming. A bit predictable perhaps, but the sight of a young adult female being smacked on her bare buttocks never failed to excite him. Even if the slaps themselves weren’t that painful, it was the shame and embarrassment that the miserable girl would have to suffer that mattered most.

With baited breath, he waited for Veronica to take up her position, but to his surprise and delight, the senior maid stepped up instead. In her mid-thirties, Rita was what he would have described as a handsome woman, with finely chiseled, angular features, dark, sensual eyes, and typically Southeast Asian olive skin. Van Hook had occasionally daydreamed about stripping her naked and suspending her by the wrists in the basement, but he had rules regarding the selection of his victims, and as a regular employee, he had placed Rita strictly off limits. That said, he had often used his hidden network of surveillance cameras to spy on her in her bathroom, and he had seen enough to know that there was a fine and solid body hiding beneath the pale blue smock she was now wearing.

As Rita raised her arm to deliver the first blow, Van Hook noted with interest, the look of enthusiasm on her face. Perhaps with the right incentive, he could persuade the athletic Filipina to participate in further disciplinary sessions with Annabel - albeit dressed in rather more domineering attire.

While he was pondering this mouthwatering idea, Rita brought her arm down and Annabel’s body jerked. When Rita took a pace back to reposition herself, the high definition lens showed a faint pink impression of Rita’s handprint on Annabel’s right buttock - the senior maid was clearly not holding back!

 

*

 

“Ow!”

Annabel had intended to deny them the satisfaction of hearing her cry out, but Rita was slapping her really hard, and after six or seven spanks, the stinging was becoming too much to bear!

With her cheek pressed down against the hard seat of the chair, Annabel tried to focus more on the physical pain than the humiliation of knowing that they were all looking at her spread and inflamed labia. Unfortunately, Ivan’s derisive comments had been only too true - as much as she wanted to die from shame, her body was reacting in a most pleasurable way to this degrading punishment!

What is wrong with me? Am I finally turning into the filthy shut that Nash wanted me to be?

She felt so defiled, and yet every time Rita’s hand made contact with her flesh, the warm throbbing between Annabel’s legs grew more and more exquisite! It made no sense to be aroused by such shame, but the physical evidence could not be denied!

Oh please God, don’t make me come! I couldn’t stand that, not in front of all these people!

Rita continued to rain down a succession of slaps, and very soon Annabel was wiggling her backside in an attempt to alleviate the pain.

“Is she dancing?” Cornelia said.

“Of course she is!” Rita panted. “Look at how she is dripping! She’s loving this!”

Annabel winced at Rita’s words. Even with her legs spread, she was acutely aware of the stickiness between them. Notwithstanding all of the outrages of the past six months, Annabel couldn’t think of anything worse than the situation she was in right now. Unlike the sexual abuse that Nash and his buddies had put her through, she had now been placed in a contrived situation in which she was being held culpable for her actions, and her unfaithful body was only serving to underline her guilt!

But I didn’t do any of this! I’m a good girl, a respectable young heiress! Not some lowly maid who enjoys being humiliated and abused!

Finally, Rita’s onslaught came to a halt, and Annabel remained in her humbling pose, waiting for the next of her attackers. Even though she knew in her heart that it was bound to happen eventually, she desperately hoped it wasn’t going to be one of the men.

 

*

 

“Go on, Milo,” Ivan said, giving his assistant a little prod in the back. “Have a little fun with her.”

Milo hesitated and averted his eyes from Annabel’s exposed sex, his response confirming his youthful innocence to Veronica. There was no denying his obvious hard-on however, and Veronica was convinced that with a little encouragement, this awkward young man could soon be converted into a willing participant in Annabel’s punishment games. Ivan must have sensed it too, and he picked up a dishcloth, ran it under a faucet until it was soaked through, and then handed it to Milo. “Give her a few towel snaps. That should get her squealing!”

Veronica noticed Annabel shift slightly as she prepared for Milo’s turn. Positioned as she was with her bare ass facing the room, she could only guess as to what was coming next, which must surely be adding to her anguish!

Milo held the sopping cloth in one hand before again settling his eyes upon his sumptuous target. Then he twirled the dishcloth around, spraying droplets everywhere, until it was compressed into a tight, dripping, coil. Then, with what looked like practiced ease, he drew his arm high across his chest and whipped the cloth down back-handed across Annabel’s rump. A sharp crack filled the air as Annabel’s head snapped up and her hands let go of the chair legs.

“Yah!”

Ooh! That really stung her! Veronica thought, a cruel smile playing on her lips. Young Milo must have learned that skill in the high school locker room!

“Stay in position, young lady!” she barked. “Your punishment has only just started!”

With an audible whimper, Annabel lowered her head again and wrapped her fingers around the chair legs. An instant later, Milo whipped the cloth down across her backside, and immediately followed that up with a rasping forehand. Each strike left a well-defined red steak across Annabel’s quivering ass cheeks, and galvanized by the sight, Milo laid four more rapid markers upon Annabel’s tender skin.

“Ah! Ow! Eek!” Annabel was actually writhing now, twisting her torso in an attempt to lessen the impact of each blow. The sight of her bright red butt-cheeks writhing frantically from side to side, was having a profound effect on Veronica – indeed, this usually mundane room was now charged with sexual tension as Annabel literally danced to Milo’s staccato tune.

“Okay Milo, that will do!” Veronica shouted over the crack of the cloth. “That’s enough!”

Milo stopped and looked at her, panting hard, his eyes a little glazed, and his cock visibly straining against his pants. Returning to reality, he lowered his eyes and said, “I’m sorry Miss Veronica, I got carried away.”

My, haven’t we awoken a sleeping monster! Veronica thought, as her eyes returned to the lobster red orbs of Annabel’s ass cheeks.

“That’s perfectly alright, Milo,” she said. “Annabel deserves her punishment, but we do need to get on and finish our chores before the master of the house gets home. Cornelia, would you like to go next?”

Like Milo, Cornelia was a quietly spoken girl, but she had already exhibited a great deal of pleasure at Annabel’s plight, and the young Filipina immediately took a metal spatula down from the kitchen rack and shoved the still-disoriented Milo to one side. As mild little Cornelia lined herself up for her first strike, Veronica marveled at how easily people’s personalities could change if they were unexpectedly placed in a position of total power over others.

Annabel had stopped moving her torso from side to side now, and her cries of pain had subsided into a steady series of grunts as moans with each impact from the spatula. Her almost purple ass had been under a constant assault for over half an hour now, and Ivan had yet to take his turn.

“I think that’s enough for now, Cornelia,” Veronica said. “Ivan, are you ready to teach Annabel a lesson she will never forget?”

“Oh, I am,” Ivan smirked.

Hearing the exchange, Annabel turned her head on the wooden seat so that she could just about make eye contact with Veronica. Her face was almost as red as her ass, and her eyes were moist with tears.

“Please Mistress Veronica, no more. I promise to be good,” she whined.

Veronica was sure that for all her tears, Annabel was play-acting just a little in an attempt to preempt a spanking by Ivan. Of all the people in this room, he was the one she was most desperate to avoid contact with.

I guess Miss Annabel has built up something of an aversion to fat middle-aged men over the past few months! Veronica thought. Well, I hate to disappoint you my dear, but you are everybody’s plaything now, with no exceptions!

“I’m not interested in your promises, young lady,” she said. “Everybody is entitled to a turn, and you will stay where you are until I give you permission to move.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter One Hundred and Fourteen

Up in his penthouse office, Van Hook watched the pot-bellied cook unhook his belt and fold it double. This wasn’t the first time Ivan had been called in to play by Veronica, and Van Hook already had a couple of recordings of him reducing a vulnerable young girl to a tearful wreck.

Even from afar, Van Hook could tell that Annabel was made of sterner stuff, and she would provide a big test of Ivan’s sadistic nature. Van Hook again zoomed in to Annabel’s ass, and was delighted to see that her previously unblemished white skin was now a patchwork of varying shades of pink and red with the occasional purple welt rising up in places. Already he could see that even the simple act of sitting down would prove to be a very painful task for Annabel over the next few days - and now she was about to receive a thrashing from a leather belt!

Increasing the pace of his masturbation, Van Hook stared in fascination as Ivan leaned down and spoke into Annabel’s ear. He then gently scraped the edge of his belt over her sore butt cheeks and the girl’s thighs began to tremble. After a few moments of sadistic teasing, Ivan pulled the belt away, but instead of the expected blow, he instead lashed it down onto the tiled floor. Van Hook couldn’t hear the noise it made, but Annabel most surely did because her whole body jumped and then - oh my! - a little dribble of piss escaped from her pussy and trickled down the inside of her thigh.

Again, Ivan moved closer and whispered to his shaking victim before stepping back once more, and this time slashing the belt hard across her confused buttocks. How Van Hook wished he could hear Annabel’s cries of anguish as he observed the tendons standing out in her neck and her tongue flailing around in her wide-open mouth. Before she had time to recover, Ivan unloaded another lash and Annabel stretched up on her toes and tried unsuccessfully to pull in her ample ass. After the third stroke, the tormented girl couldn’t stop herself as she instinctively let go of the chair legs and placed her hands palms outward in front of her inflamed rump.

 

*

 

“Just say it!” Ivan said in a low, even voice. “Tell me what you really want, and I won’t thrash you.”

I won’t say it! Annabel raged in her head. Not to you, you disgusting old pig!

Images of Darius Nash, Alastair Barclay, and Tom Craddock flashed through her scrambled brain. Of all the people who had molested and degraded her over the past six months - including her ex-friends, insane doctors, even those decrepit old hobos - it was exactly Ivan’s type, the sad middle-aged, boozy, porn-addicted losers that she abhorred so intensely! Under ordinary circumstances, they wouldn’t have had a prayer of a chance of so much as laying a finger upon her! These were the dirty old scum that Annabel used to enjoy flaunting herself in front of, knowing that they would go home and jerk one off alone in the bathroom with just the memory of her for inspiration.

But since her life had been so dramatically changed for the worse, she had become very familiar with the touch, taste and smell of their flabby, hairy bodies, and much worse, their saggy balls and Viagra-hardened cocks! Well, she’d had no choice in the matter before, and even if Ivan intended to take her, she was damned if she would pander to his pathetic ego and utter the words that he wanted to hear! Veronica may well have forced her to admit that she was a dirty slut, but enough was enough - she had to salvage some pride.

Facing the wall, she had no idea what instrument of pain he held in his hand, but she willed herself to be strong. After all, how much more could it hurt than Milo’s wet dishcloth? Her buttocks were still throbbing painfully, but she believed if she gave it her fullest attention, she could just about withstand the pain.

She couldn’t feel Ivan’s hot breath on her cheek anymore, so she guessed he had moved back to ready himself. Annabel braced her bare feet on the tiles and closed her eyes. Nothing happened for a moment, and then she felt something hard, almost sharp, running along the contours of her backside. Up until then, she hadn’t realized just how tender her buttocks had become, but the light touch sent a little bolt of electricity through her!

Oh God! Maybe I’ve misjudged this! If such faint contact can be so sensitive then...

A loud smack reverberated around the room and Annabel shrieked in terror. In the same instant, to her horror, she felt a little jet of urine squirting out of her.

“Look, she’s wet herself!” Cornelia laughed.

“She’s so scared!” Milo said.

It took Annabel a moment to realize she hadn’t actually been struck. Ivan had only been toying with her, but yet again her disloyal body had given her away. This vile piece of shit had made her lose control of her bladder in front of them all, which made a mockery of her pretense that she wasn’t afraid.

“Say you want me to fuck you. Say you want to come, and I’ll spare you the pain!” His cheek was almost touching hers again, and to her chagrin she could feel her legs trembling. Why was she being such a wimp? She’d been through worse than this hadn’t she? So screw him! Knowing that she would almost certainly regret it, Annabel kept her lips firmly pressed together, but then cowered when she sensed him move away from her again.

When the first lash of the belt did land, Annabel had a brief moment of clarity to reminded herself that she only had herself to blame. She had been given a choice and could have capitulated to Ivan’s demand, but no, she still had that little flame of rebellion burning inside her. But knowing that she was destined to lose, whatever happened, was her show of insubordination worth it? Right now, as the nerves in her buttocks sent their nasty little signals to her brain, she wasn’t so sure - it felt as though she was being burned by a red hot flame!

She wasn’t aware that she had screamed until she sucked in a lungful of air, but no sooner had she caught her breath than another excruciating strip of fire cut across her bruised buttocks. This time she did hear herself scream, although the screeching noise she made barely sounded human to her.

Oh sweet Jesus! I can’t take any more of this!

Annabel had learned much about her pain threshold since she had moved in with Darius Nash, and she had frequently surprised herself as she had learned to tolerate ever increasing levels of torture. But whether or not this was the accumulative effect of her beatings today, or a particularly vicious technique that Ivan was using, Annabel seriously doubted that she could withstand any more. As tears began to sting her eyes, she waited for Ivan to talk to her again. She really, really, didn’t want to say it, not in front of everybody, but if it meant calling a halt to this agony, what else could she do? She could articulate the words without meaning them, couldn’t she? Surely everybody would understand that she would be confessing her sins under duress?

But Ivan didn’t talk to her. Another thought-blinding slash whipped across her buttocks, and again Annabel yelled with everything she had. After she had refilled her lungs again, she knew that there was only one thing she could do to stop him - and even though it made her feel lower than she had ever felt before, she simply had to say it. “P-please... f-fuck me, Ivan!”

For a panicky split-second, she thought he hadn’t heard her, but then he said, “What did you just say?”

 

 

Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen

Veronica was both amazed and impressed with Ivan’s unexpectedly vindictive attitude towards Annabel. Whereas the others were evidently deriving a great deal of malicious pleasure from her suffering, Ivan on the other hand was sending out vibes so hostile that they bordered on out and out hatred. A quick glance at his bulging crotch was confirmation enough that Ivan was also highly aroused by the idea of having total power over a pretty and defenseless young woman, but there was something about Annabel’s overall demeanor that seemed to be bringing out the absolute worst in him.

What exactly was it? Considering the obscene and humiliating position that the hapless girl had been forced to assume for such a long time, it shouldn’t have been readily apparent why Annabel was antagonizing Ivan so much. But Veronica was pretty sure she knew what was bugging him so much because she had already picked up on it herself – it was all in Annabel’s eyes.

No matter how much they abused and humiliated her, a barely detectable glint of arrogance still dwelled within those angelic, blue eyes. Annabel may very well have learned to hide her inner feelings through word and deed, but she couldn’t completely conceal how she truly felt about her tormentors – the eyes were the windows to the soul, after all. Here was a young lady to the manor born, and no amount of sustained degradation could ever truly extinguish that, especially when she was carrying the one torch of hope remaining to her – eventual liberation from her nightmare world of subjugation.

Ivan, on the other hand, had worked his way up from the gutter, at one point holding a good position at a prestigious hotel in the city, before losing it over a spurious sexual harassment charge. Effectively blackballed, his hard-earned career had imploded, leaving Ivan with a lingering bitterness towards the opposite sex. Veronica knew all of this from his resume, as well as a briefing from Mr. Van Hook, who had, for whatever reason, provided Ivan with gainful employment, as well as a most unlikely opportunity to gain his revenge on the fairer sex without fear of retribution.

Knowing the backgrounds of both protagonists, Mr. Van Hook would surely now be watching with great interest to see what Ivan would do next in an attempt to crush Annabel’s lingering spirit, and of far greater significance, to see how Annabel would react.

“I-I… want you to fuck me…” Annabel’s voice was little more than a whisper now.

“They can’t hear you,” Ivan said. “Say it louder. Tell everybody what you want.”

Veronica’s eyes were now fixed upon Annabel’s sopping sex, her bloated labia as red as her sore ass cheeks. All Ivan had to do was free his rigid cock and then lean forward, and he would slip inside her with ease, and for a moment Veronica thought that was exactly what he intended to do – but the misogynistic chef evidently had other ideas!

“I… please will you..?” Annabel croaked, quickly followed by a high-pitched cry as Ivan brought the unforgiving belt down across her ass again.

“Ai! No more, please! Just fuck me! I want you to fuck me!”

“You don’t tell me what to do!” Ivan snarled, slipping his free hand inside his apron. “Beg, you little cunt!”

“I-I said please already!” Annabel protested. “What else do you want me say?”

Oh no, that attitude is not going to help your cause at all, young lady! Veronica thought. Ivan was totally running the show now, and even if she wanted to, Veronica wasn’t sure if she could stop him. Even the cackling Filipinas had gone quiet and were watching the unfolding drama with awe.

An incurable sadist herself since childhood, Veronica did however occasionally experience what she termed ‘reverse sexual fantasies’ in which she found herself playing the imaginary role of the victim instead of the abuser. She found these infrequent urges - the antithesis of her natural predatory instincts - unexpectedly arousing, and as she watched Annabel, the privileged heiress, being forced to act out the role of a lowly whore, she couldn’t help but wonder what she must be thinking right now.

 

*

 

What more does he want from me? Annabel thought frantically.

Her back was aching terribly, her calves were beginning to cramp up, and her buttocks were so sore and tender, she wondered whether she would ever be able to sit down comfortably again. But all of that pain and discomfort was secondary to the hurt she was suppressing inside as she tried to placate the rabid dog standing behind her.

She was asking him to fuck her out of a basic need for survival, but in doing so, she was violating her deepest personal code of honor. Had she possessed the fortitude to remain silent, then he could have forcibly taken her for as long as he liked but she would still have won the moral victory. And Ivan was well aware of that, which why he was insisting she plead for it.

“Tell everyone why you took your panties off,” Ivan said.

“But I didn’t…”

“Then why aren’t you wearing them!

You know why! Annabel thought helplessly. Oh God, he’s insane! And this is a madhouse!

“I… they…”

“Tell the truth, or so help me, I’ll thrash it out of you!”

Annabel felt her bladder move at the prospect of any more punishment being administered to her burning ass. The truth. If she could only speak the truth right now. But in this ‘through the looking glass’ world into which she had been so abruptly thrust, the truth was irrelevant – it was the illusion that mattered, and if Annabel were to survive this horror, she now understood that she would have to fully live out the role they had cast her in.

So be it.

“I-I can’t help myself,” Annabel said, trying to make her voice audible. “I love c-cock… I-I always have. Mistress Veronica is right, I’m a dirty slut. I need it every day, especially from mature men like you, Ivan…” Again, she saw the leering faces of Darius Nash, Alastair Barclay, et al, and God, how she despised them! “I like an experienced lover… someone who can make me come over and over again…”

Her voice trailed off into silence and Annabel wondered if she had overdone it. It was obvious that she hadn’t meant a word of what she had just said, and now, in her desperate attempt to please, she may have inadvertently succeeded in humiliating her tormentor!

After what seemed like an eternity, Ivan said, “What a sad little bitch you are. Do you honestly think I would stoop so low as to put my dick inside your disease-ridden hole?”

What did he just say? Mentally and emotionally drained, Annabel didn’t think she still retained the capacity for surprise, but as his insulting words sunk in, she was actually stunned by them. She had already accepted that he was going to copulate with her right here in the utility room in front of everybody else, but now it sounded as though he was about to turn her down! How could he, after how hard she had tried?

“Look at you!” Ivan continued. “Your juices are running down your thighs! You disgust me!”

Tears began to well up in Annabel’s eyes as she comprehended the trap she had just fallen into. There was no greater humiliation for a woman than to offer herself to – plead with! – a man for sex and then be turned down!

“Well, I’m not gonna do it, but maybe Milo might fuck you,” Ivan said. “Why don’t you ask him?”

 

 

 

Chapter One Hundred and Sixteen

All eyes turned towards Milo whose face was suddenly as red as Annabel’s ass. The flustered youth opened his mouth, but Ivan put up a silencing hand.

“Well? Are you going to ask Milo to help you?”

“M-Milo, please will you f-fuck me?” Annabel sniveled.

Milo began to shake his head, but Ivan waggled his finger at him, and then withdrew his other hand from his apron. Up until then, Veronica had wondered if she was going to witness one, if not both of the cooks putting their dicks inside Annabel’s slippery cunt. But one look at the long, curved cucumber in Ivan’s hand definitely ended that speculation!

Rita and Cornelia stifled more giggles as Ivan waved the tip of the vegetable an inch from Annabel’s swollen cunt lips. Ivan looked at Milo and nodded. Milo gulped, and said in croaking voice, “Okay, I will do it.”

“Be careful Milo,” Rita said. “You don’t know what you might catch!”

“Are you ready, Annabel?” Ivan said.

“Y-Yes,” Annabel said uncertainly.

When Ivan touched the tip of the cucumber against Annabel’s outer labia, her whole body jerked, and then she yelped as Ivan slowly began to trail it up and down Annabel’s opening.

“O-Oh…” Annabel moaned.

“Listen to her!” Cornelia tittered.

“Let it out, girl!” Rita said.

Is it possible, Veronica wondered, that Annabel’s engorged labia are unable to distinguish between the cucumber and the end of a man’s penis? Looking at the way Annabel was now turning her head from side to side, she obviously sensed that something was not right.

Then, without warning, Ivan began to push the vegetable inside Annabel’s highly accommodating pussy. Veronica watched mesmerized, as inch by inch, the phallic-shaped gourd slowly disappeared inside Annabel’s body.

“Ungh!” Annabel let go of the chair legs and arched her back. Ivan had selected a rather generously proportioned cucumber for the task, and Veronica estimated that there must have been at least six inches inside Annabel’s cunt by now - with a good six more to go!

Ivan kept on pushing, and Annabel’s grunts grew louder. When approximately eight inches of the cucumber were embedded inside Annabel’s body, Ivan let go and stood aside so they could all have a good look. Annabel was gripping the seat of the chair now, her torso and neck twisting around in an attempt to see what was going on behind her

“Ask Milo to make you come,” Ivan said, gripping the cucumber once more.

Now aware that Milo wasn’t anywhere near her, Annabel gasped, “What is it? What have you put in me?”

Ivan chuckled and began to draw the vegetable in and out of Annabel’s sodden cunt. The confused girl’s breathing was quite audible now, and despite her obvious disapproval at having a foreign object inserted inside her, it looked like she was already on the verge of climaxing.

“Well, it’s not Milo is it?” Ivan said as he quickly picked up the pace.

“S-Stop!” Annabel gasped. “T-Take it out of me!”

She was up on her toes now, her calves straining, and her purple-red ass cheeks bouncing as the dark green vegetable slipped easily in and out of her cunt. Ivan was pumping her at full tilt now, and a deep guttural groan escaped her lips as her left arm suddenly shot out, fingers splayed.

“N-n, no, no, nooo!” Annabel threw her head back, her whole body stiffened, and then she remained quite still in that pose for so long that Veronica thought she might have had a seizure!

“Shit! She’s come!” Rita shrieked.

Annabel slumped forward, her badly-cropped red hair falling around her face. His work done, Ivan stepped away, leaving Annabel still deeply impaled on the now-glistening vegetable. Feeling slightly giddy herself, Veronica gazed mistily at the insolent cucumber jutting out from between Annabel’s bruised ass cheeks and wondered what Mr. Van Hook had made of all that.

 

*

 

“Good evening, Mr. Van Hook,” Higgins said, holding open the back door of the limo. “Will you be going to the club first sir, or straight home?

“Home,” Van Hook said, hoping he didn’t look too flustered. My God, that girl came like a bunny rabbit!

He had a copy of the video on his iPad, and as Higgins pulled out into the busy traffic, he replayed it silently in the back seat. The girl was a fighter, no doubt about that. Just the ticket! He couldn’t wait to meet her! He touched the speed dial on his phone and Veronica said, “Mr. Van Hook. What time shall we be expecting you for dinner?”

“I’ll be home by seven,” Van Hook said. “How is the new employee?”

“She needs some training, but we’ll get her into shape,” Veronica said.

Noticing Higgins’ eyes on him in the rearview, Van Hook said, “Good, good. I can’t abide badly behaved staff.”

“Will you be interviewing her before or after dinner, sir?” Veronica asked.

“After,” Van Hook said. “Give her a couple of hours to recover… em, rest, and then have her sent to my study at nine.”

“Very good, sir,” Veronica said.

Van Hook hung up and grinned to himself. Veronica loved playing the game. What a godsend that woman had been. And as loyal as they come. But then, she did owe him big time. Van Hook liked keeping people in his debt. He settled happily back into the comfortable upholstery and closed his eyes.

He had no specific plan for the feisty young redhead, but he had a lot of juicy ideas about what he was going to do to her. He recalled that constant fury burning in her eyes, even as she attempted to play the submissive. Poor old Ivan hadn’t really tamed her. She had simply learned through hard-earned experience how and when to let her captors think they had won. Oh yes, her pride had taken a huge battering when she had discovered she was being forced to climax on a cucumber, but she had been through many other similar humiliations with Nash, and she had somehow harnessed the ability to always bounce back.

Well, she was about to meet her match tonight. Maybe he would take her into the private dungeon. He had noted the look of trepidation on her face when she had asked Veronica what was behind that wooden door.

Oh you’ll find out soon enough, missy! You’ll be spending many miserable hours in that bleak room. Maybe days, even weeks, without being permitted to leave. Cut off from the world, with only your Master for occasional company!

The limo pulled up at a red light and Van Hook opened his eyes to see that Higgins was watching him again. The chauffeur quickly looked away but not before Van Hook said, “There’s a new staff member joined us today, Higgins.”

“Really, sir?”

“Young, good-looking girl.”

“That’s nice sir.”

“Strong willed too, Veronica tells me.”

No answer this time.

“Already had to be disciplined today,” Van Hook added.

“That’s a shame, sir,” Higgins said.

“Received quite a thrashing, so Veronica said. Most of the staff joined in too, apparently.”

Higgins made eye contact with his boss again, and this time held it.

“Perhaps you’d be interested in helping keep the girl under control,” Van Hook said.

“Me, sir?”

Van Hook smiled. He had plenty of clandestine footage of Higgins’ own particular style of discipline of unfortunate young female employees.

“She could help you in the garage,” Van Hook said. “Teach her about car maintenance. Let her play with the jump leads. See how she takes to a bit of grease and oil. You could even introduce her that special oil drum you keep in there…”

The light turned green, and Van Hook thought he saw a twinkle in Higgins’ eyes before turning his attention back to the road. Higgins said, “I’m not quite sure I understand what you mean, sir."

 

 

 

NEXT: ANNABEL MEETS HER NEW MASTER


© Copyright 2017 Lorenzo Marks. All rights reserved.

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