As I walk into my garage I hold out the lamp and peer into the darkness that crowds round its feeble light.
The whole garage smells of oil and petrol and paraffin. A faint whiff of perfume lingers in the air, not a smell I get in here as it's not really a woman's place. Old Mrs Duffin from the farm came down with her van now and again but she smelt of cows and horses.
I hear it: A low moan of suffering. My young apprentice Ted had been walking down the street past my garage and had alerted me to the problem.
Being a Sunday night he was on his way from the chapel for his tea and then to bed. We had a busy day tomorrow as Lord Melchard and his party needed their cars to drive them to the station then hence to London for the big vote on Thursday.
So when he knocked on my door and said he had heard something behind my garage's big wooden doors I was worried.
We had the Lord's Rolls Royce in for an oil change and for me to put new wicks in his head lights. He also had a shooting brake booked in the morning and then one of his staff's cars too. I also had a spring to replace on the old Fordson lorry of the local coal man. So I didn't need someone nicking my tools or my lord's car.
I try to move as quietly as I can into the dark recesses that I know so well. Dad had used this building as a blacksmith's-come-livery-stables and had the sense to send me to learn about motor vehicles be it lorries or cars so was in his words ready for the new world.
My hobnail boots aren't the most sneaky thing to move about in so I slip my feet out of them wincing at the cold of the floor as soon as my foot touches it through the hole in my sock.
There it is! I think as a sound echoes from the back where the Rolls is.
There is a little light coming from the moon's glow drifting in from the skylights in the V of the roof.
I stand still as a low moan or a whimper comes across the dark void, and then I move across behind the coal lorry picking up a jacking bar. I pause again and hear nothing. Just that empty quiet feeling you get when you're on your own here. I stand with my head on one side slowing my breathing down. There is a creak and a bump as if something is shuffling and as I creep around the side of the lorry I hear it again.
A soft sound, a gasp or something like that, maybe even a sigh, I jump round the side of the Rolls with the bar raised above my head. Nothing; I laugh out loud looking under it for a cat or a rat. Nothing, not a thing!
Turning I lean on the large trunk attached to the rear of the shooting brake and jump back as a muffled scream echoes round the garage making me stumble and kick over a can of Valine oil.
“Bloody hell!” I moan, rubbing my big toe on my right foot with my left foot. I hop over to the trunk and look hard at it. Holding the lamp close to it I tug at the straps holding it to the car and hearing a squeal I speed up wondering what the hell is going on.
There is a lock, a catch but that won't be a problem as I have a file on my desk which should slide under the catch the flick it out and release it. Gently doing that so I don't scratch the burnished metal of the base of it thinking if it's nothing to worry about I will just relock it. Holding the lamp up I lift the lid and drop it. I lift it again and peep into the void. A pair of stunning blue eyes as wide as mine I'd imagine looked back at me with fright.
The familiar looking woman's mouth is cruelly spilt by a black leather belt deforming the beauty of her. I lean in and look more closely, whoever she is, her body is naked and covered in leather straps and belts.
Flesh bulging each side of the belt testifies to the tightness of the binding of her body. She is drawn up into a ball and packed in held upright by the set of old army greatcoats stuffed around her body. I set the lamp on the back of the Rolls, reach in, and pull out a few of the great coats so I can lift her out. Reaching in I slide my hands down her back and the front of her shins to her feet and I am shocked to find out she is naked all over.
Lifting her out, she moans and is shaking like a leaf. Scared or cold, I am not sure, so I carry her to the small office where I left the coal fire banked up when I left earlier, to go see my mother who lives two streets back from my house. Being single and having the business to run since my dad died I spend a lot of time here at the garage now.
I had been doing my book keeping earlier in the afternoon so it was still warm as I opened the door and carried her in and deposited her on the desk, lighting the gas mantle and turning up the wick. The light is still not brilliant so I look over and say “don't go anywhere” and go off to get the lamp I'd left near the Rolls.
I step into my boots and pick up the lamp and rush back as I don't want her dropping off the desk.
The first thing I notice as I enter the office, closing the door to keep the heat in, is that she is not a young woman.
She is very attractive. She carries a bit of weight, with large breasts squeezed between her thighs and chest. Each strap is really tight and there's a lot of them, a leather thick collar encircles her neck.
Her arms are crushed behind her back at the elbow and wrists; these are also augmented by thicker straps which hold her body in the squashed position. Her eyes follow me as I look around her and notice her legs are also fastened at the ankle and above her knees. The loops of the belt which wrap her in the ball sort of hide the belts strapped around her torso. Each breast has a belt round the base of it which looks harsh as the pressure of her legs crush them onto the belts.
She must be hurting I think and decide even though she is in that trunk for a reason I cannot just put her back.
The other implication is, as the shooting brake is from the manor house, I could lose a lot of business if I'm interfering with some of his lordship’s dealings. I don't know much about the goings on up at the house but with another war looming I cannot afford to lose business now. So I face a dilemma.
She doesn't seem to be pleading to be released, she is just watching. I hope she isn't too bothered by my face. Some women are. The German officer’s sabre hadn't left me with much of a smile on the left hand side of my mush.
Moving round I roll her on her side gently noticing a strap goes up between her buttocks and covers her mound. Putting the kettle onto the wire hanging over the fire, I open the vent and start piling more coal to get it to warm the water quicker; she must be nithered, so I put some coco into a pair of cups.
I'm still worried as to what to do with regards to the lady on my desk. The kettle starts to boil and I take it off the wire and pour it on the cocoa and stir it. Holding it out under her nose I say “If I undo the strap in your mouth will you promise not to scream? You can have a drink. I mean you no harm. I can put you back where I found you or release you, it's your choice.
I look in her eyes and she nods as much as she can. Picking her up I place her on her feet and buttocks. I then chuck a couple of logs on the fire as it's getting cool now.
“Back in a minute I'll lock up so no one can get in.”
I lock the small access door I had entered by and walk back in the office admiring her buttocks framing the black leather strap parting them. I also notice the fact she has goose bumps on her back so I pick her up and put her on the rag rug in front of the fire sitting her back against the soft armchair I often snooze in. I move the cocoa to the side of the fire, and kneel down reaching behind and unfastening the belt eased it out between her lips.
She grimaces and eases her jaws together. “Thank you!” Her voice is cultured, nice. Now the belts are not distorting her face, I recognise her.
“My lady?” she nods and smiles. I hold out the cocoa for her to sip on. She takes a sip and sighs.
She smiles again. “Mr Robson,” she says formally.
“Stan, ma'am you can call me Stan.”
“Tonight I think you can call me Emily!” she nods her head down her naked body. I smile at her joke.
I sip my cocoa and sit looking at her with my back against the wall. “I take it as you're not demanding to be let out. you’re here of your own choice?”
Her smile is warm and humorous and I laughed out loud as she answered, “No and yes. My husband and I enjoy these games and I had challenged him to a duel, he had to place me in the car away from our home. What gave me away?” she nods to the cup and I hold it to her lips and she blows and then sips at it. I place it by the fire and pick up mine and drink from it.
“A noise, you made a noise and my apprentice heard it as he walked home from chapel. I thought maybe someone was having your car away.”
Emily smiled again. “I had a moment, if you know what I mean.”
I smile my understanding, and she blushes a little. I nod.
“It's going to get cold tonight so you might want to stay in here with the fire. My garage gets cold on a frosty night, do you want putting back in or do you want to stop here in my office?”
“You seem to be okay with this situation. She looks at me funny. You won't tell anyone will you?”
“The amount of money your husband pays me is enough to ensure my silence and I am enjoying the view to be honest my lady. When do we need to get you into the trunk again?”
I grin at her and she smiles back. I hold the cup out to her.
“About nine I think, Groves is coming for the car. But I could go back now if you need to go home.” She pauses and smiles.” Not something you'd expect of us is it?” She looks off into the distance.
I am amazed at how calm she is. She is sitting in the office of the person who looks after the manors cars naked and compressed.
“We will need to get you back in your trunk before then as my young lad starts at seven thirty.” I offer her the last of the cocoa in her cup.
She sips and sighs again. “”Thank you it's like a draft of heaven, I went in the trunk at dinner time today.”
“You must be used to it, and get a lot of enjoyment.” I say and reach into the bread box for some of mum's home made bread.
“Toast?” I ask. Wondering if I am crazy? A naked woman who is very attractive sat on my rug and I cannot really touch her as I couldn't afford the scandal if her husband found out.
“Oh really! Thank you, you're spoiling me. I will have to make it up to you.” she smiles as I put the bread on the toasting fork. “I get so much fun out of this as with my girls married, I have time to kill and this is my main way of dealing with it. I love the feelings it gives me!” She sighs and shuffles a bit.
We sit and eat toast as if a man feeding a trussed up woman is the most usual thing in the world.
“I need a wee and I don't want to wee on your rug.”
I have a loo out the back so I offer to carry her to it. So with a struggle to carry her without dropping her I manage to get her in and sitting on it, her buttocks get soaked with her pee as it flows past the strap covering her bits, but I had plenty of newspaper to wipe her dry.
With the strap between her legs I couldn't really dry her well or that out either. “It doesn't matter as I will have a pee in the trunk before I'm let out tomorrow,” she tells me.
The rest of the evening goes nicely, we chat and she tells me all about her need to be tied up. Her sex life is so much better and her husband now spends more time with her as they play these games a lot. I cover her with a blanket and leave her on the rug in front of the fire. Covered with an old blanket. while I sleep for a bit on the sofa.
We had another cup of cocoa and a slice of toast before I re-strap her mouth and at her insistence tighten her body belts a notch making her even more balled up as it's about 0630.
Easing her back into the case I cover her with as much of the greatcoats as I can. I then lug it back onto the car and push and pull it onto the car's luggage rack.
Strapping it to the rack I start the car and back it up to the door so it can catch the early morning sun to warm it up coming through the windows in the front of the big doors. Before settling into my armchair and going to sleep for a bit.
I walk home and have a small bacon sandwich with my mother who bollocked me for not coming home. I said I had done some paperwork and fell asleep.
Soon the driver comes for the car and it goes up to the big house in a trail of blue smoke and a couple of backfires as he floors it.
The rest of the week went along as usual. I have to admit when seeing the big trunk boxes on the rear of the cars made me wonder and smile.
The next Saturday I am alone in the office when there's a knock behind me. A long day had been had and I was doing my books again. I do lead an exciting life, me!
I sigh and look back at the door expecting my mum to be stood there, about to complain about my not coming home for tea. Instead, stood in the doorway is Lord Melchard.
“My lord!” I stand and pull my cap off.
“Mr Roberson, may I have a moment of your time ” he asks, and I point to a chair.
“Tea?” I ask moving to the kettle and then picking up the pot and pouring the dregs in the bin.
“Thank you!” he sighs and takes a seat. I have always liked the old boy. He is one of the better sort of gents who pays his bills on time and always seems happy. But not now, I think: more uneasy.
I sigh; his wife must have told him of my discovery. An awkward silence descends as I pour the makings into the pot and stir it round.
He coughs. And takes the tin mug off me as I offer it to him. “Stan, I am grateful for your tact and discretion over what you found on the back of my motor last weekend!” he pauses and coughs continuing
“My wife tells me you were a gentleman and a kind man for not judging us. And she thanks you for the warm and caring actions on a cold night!”
I just nod sensing he wants to say more so I let him compose his thoughts.
“It's not been easy for her. We lost our son at Ypres and both daughters are married and live away now. We have taken to the games we play to fill in the time we spend together. She needs this as some sort of therapy after losing the boy and now the girls.
But I am finding it hard to fit in the time she needs, now I am the member of Parliament for this area, which is why I am so thankful to you for not telling anyone of Saturday night’s escapades!”
He holds his hand out and I shake it. Still very weary of what might be about to come there is a social order and I don't want to lose his business.
“It's okay Sir, your wife explained it all to me as well as you have,” I demure to him still not sure if this is a warning or more.
He sips his tea. “Oh god I forgot what proper Tommie tea is. I love the condensed milk!” I remember he was there with us as an engineer officer. The Great War had still got a hold of us, in all sorts of sad ways .
“I have a huge favour to ask you.” He looked across at me, watching my face to see if I was worried, which I am.
“Go on Sir!”
“My wife and I wonder if you could help us with her desires when I am away. She has a strange need to be kept prisoner and we cannot trust the staff to keep it a secret. And you already know her odd ways.” He coughs and looks away. “I understand this may seem very odd to you. And I am not sure how you will work it so we keep it from the public. The scandal would ruin us.” I look out of the window into the open space of my garage and I think it worries him that I might be about to reject his offer. “I would pay you well for it and you can enjoy my wife at any stage and in any hole except her fanny.”
I am taken aback by this, as I just thought he was needing a gaoler for her. “Er, thank you Sir, does your wife know of this offer?”
He has the decency to look a bit bashful. “She does Stan she understands there would be a cost to you holding her prisoner and we would both like you to take care of her.
“We would pretend that she was coming with me to London but in reality she would be staying either here or in our cellar, she gets so bored in London so this seems to be a better option all round. I have decided that the old underground ice house can be converted to be her prison. Thus if she is locked into it only myself and you would have a key.
“You can access it from here through the woods and bring her back here when you can. She liked it here in your office but we know you would have to keep her out of sight.” His smile made it seem possible, as if we had just discussed servicing his Rolls. Odd lot, are the gentry.
“Can I think about it Sir? As it’s an unusual request and there could be a few problems if we get found out.”
“So it’s not a no then!” he smiled.
“No sir it's not a no. More a ‘let me think about how we do it!’”
“My wife will fill you in on how her treatment should be but I will say the harsher the better she seems to like it. Not permanent marks though! She likes a strapping. But try not to break the skin!”
I nod and we sip our cooling tea and he smiles at me
“Thank you! You're doing us a great service.” and with that he stood up and left me watching his long strides as he walked off to his car.
“Well bugger me!” I thought and poured myself a brandy from the medical box.
Tuesday morning I was helping Ted out the back, re-flooring an old Foden wooden body lorry.
Harold, my main mechanic, came wandering through the long garage and shouted, “Stan, phone call from the big house, can you go see m'lord up at the old ice house about 3pm? I told him you would, as we have caught up with the work on his gamekeepers van. I said you would drop it off.”
“Cheers mate!” I grin and thump the middle board into place while Ted jumps up and down on it at the same time.
The bell rings and Ted goes off to the fuel pump. I sit for a breather leaning on the headboard. There's a song-thrush blasting out its tune from the top of a chestnut tree and a slight breeze is swishing the leaves of the old ash and oak trees up on the top of the hill behind my garage.
The row of terrace houses that make the main street of the village bask in the sunshine, the frost evaporating in wisps. I like the beginning of spring; hope for the year! Justified or not, I don't know, as the news coming from Germany isn't good.
Ted wanders back with a pair of mugs and a bag in his hand. “your mum dropped this off for us!”
I look into it, 3 pieces of Parkin sitting warm in the bottom, it smells beautiful! I look up and Harold comes out with his mug and we all sit in comfortable comradeship.
I drive the van up the long sweeping drive up to the big house. The long manicured lawns stretch both sides of the smooth road. Passing through the stone gates I wave at the two lads digging in the large vegetable garden at the rear of the house where all the cars and vans are parked.
I love this Morris van, m'lord never skimps on his fleet and it goes well. I nod at the old rough looking bloke wandering down the path from the estate cottages. “Afternoon Tom.”
His grin is huge, showing not many teeth. “It's Stan wi’ me Van !” he laughed.
I doff my cap and drop one of my arms with a flourish. “Your carriage awaits, my good game keeper!”
He laughs. “Ya daft bugger! My lord asks if you can meet him at the old ice house. My lady's wandered down there to see what he is planning. We think it's more food storage if that bastard Hitler gets his way.”
“Do you like the lady, is she fair Tom?”
“She is lovely, my lad! Why do you ask?”
“She came in the garage last week to ask a favour for the lord, that's all.”
“One of his bloody cars I bet!” he laughs. I nod. “The ice house is down the track behind those trees.”
I wander down the winding track down the hill towards a grass covered mound. There are two saddled horses grazing around the entrance which is a set of steps surrounded by a brick doorway. Going down into the earth.
I turn and look across the valley, the village looks great in the low sunshine.
“My lord, is it okay to come down?” I shout into the entrance.
“Oh course you can Stan,” his big booming voice echoes up the brick stairwell.
I wander down the stairs, passing the big iron gate at the top of the stairs down to a thick oak door which was open. The large oval room was about 25 feet long, brick-lined and well built. In the old days it was rammed with packed snow in winter and cold water was then poured in between the blocks of snow. This set it into ice and with the door closed it lasted most of summer. This was so the house had ice all year round, there was some shelving at the door end so meat and things could be left to stay fresh. Clever idea, if you had the staff and the money. And the lord of the manor had lots.
My lady is standing naked facing her husband. Her long dark hair is tied in a long braid that hangs down her back touching the top of her arse cheeks, he towers above her, she is about 5 foot 2 inches of female loveliness.
A steel collar, thick and heavy looking, locked around her neck shows either side of her braid.
Her wrists are folded up behind her and attached to the collar between her shoulder blades in matching steel cuffs by a short length of chain. My first thought was: this must be uncomfortable for her.
My lord smiled at me “Ha Good afternoon Stan, it's a grand day isn't it!”
More of a statement than a question I thought. “My lord, my lady,” I reply.
She keeps her back to me, but says “Mr Robson I am so glad you have come. I do hope it's good news for us all!” There was an element of hope in her voice. I look her husband in the eye.
“Aye, my Lady, it is. I will help you with your interests!” he smiles his approval.
“Thank you Stan!” He holds out his hand and I walk over to shake his.
“I am just getting my wife ready for my week down in London. Lots of votes on things you know!” he smiled.
“Can you help me with this? I just cannot get it to close on my own.” He reaches on to the table behind him and picks up a thick steel band with odd looking ends.
I look at it, and guess it's a belt for her waist. But it has no hinge so it must be prised apart for it to fit round her.
“It should fit but it's a two man job I think!” he smiles at me and continues, “I had it made last week for Emily as she wanted to be a wench in a jail clapped in irons!” He grins and strokes his wife's face.
He holds it in front of her and she steps into the slightly opened circle and he lifts it up as far as her thigh tops.
I move to her left side and he and I prise the metal open, easing it up and over her buttocks to the middle of her waist and gently let it close; the ends click loudly as it meets in the middle indenting the soft flesh of her belly.
It's not going to slip down, it's acting like a very thin corset.
“Nice workmanship, My lord,” I say as Emily breathes in a little, to settle it, and I realise she must be feeling the tightness as her face is flushed.
He inserts an odd shaped key and it's locked in place. He returns to the table which contains a lot more iron work. And I wonder if he is going to fit it all.
Bending down, he fits her with a pair of leg irons with a six-inch chain between them, locking them on with his key.
She turns so I can look at her naked chained form and smiles. “I don't think I can offer you much resistance Mr Robson.”
“Oh my dear, I haven't finished yet,” he smiles and picks up another pair of manacles. I wonder where they are going as I couldn't see her going anywhere fast.
He stands in front of her. “Stan, can you take hold of her right nipple and pull on it, hard, please?”
I look at her and she nods her permission. I take hold between my thumb and forefinger and pull the hard bud. Her breast stretches and elongates and I watch him place the manacle around the base of her breast nestling up to her breast bone clicking it into place. I let go and I see her wince as the blood flows back into her nipple.
Her eyes follow my hand as I reach for her other nipple as his lordship opens the other manacle
she flicks her eyes on to mine as her breast follows her nipple out towards me. Another click, and the manacle holds her breast out from her chest wall just as its sister one does. Looking closely you can see her pulse beat in her nipple ends.
“Sit down darling!” he points into a cell at the back of the vault.
As she moves taking short steps we follow and I see her husband pick up the remaining items off the table carrying them in with us as she reaches the camp bed by the back wall.
He stands in front of her and treads a thin chain through both rings on the tops of her breast cuffs and loops it through the ring on the front of her collar and back through both breast cuff rings pulling them upwards towards her collar. This must compensate for the pull of her wrists at the rear of her collar. I admire his train of thought. He is more into this than he lets on, I think. Her breathing has quickened and she is looking flustered. She is a hell of a woman, I think.
He reaches down and pulls another pair of manacles from under the bed; these must be attached to the wall by the long chain that comes slithering after them. These are attached to her ankles above the ones she is already wearing .
“I don't think she will be going far, my lord,” I joke.
He smiles. “One cannot take chances, you know!” he grinned, “one last thing, then we can leave her here for a while. Can you fetch me that please?” He points to a thing on the shelf outside the cell.
I pick it up and carry the heavy item in. I recognise it from school history lessons, watching as he opens it up and feeding her braid through the back of the head cage holds out the lump of metal that fits in her mouth over her tongue. She smiles and says “Thank you my dear” then she opens her mouth and accepts it, as he closes the cage and locks the big padlock at the side of her head.
“Stan will come and look after you in a while my love,” he kisses her forehead through the bars of her head cage and gently rubs her between her legs. The smell of an aroused woman grows as she moves her hips in time with his fingers. Taking his handkerchief he rubs between her moist folds and then using his fingers stuffs it inside her.
Just as she is about to come he pulls it out, stuffs it in his pocket and, indicating for me to step outside the cell, follows me out and locks it behind him. Her groan of denied climax follows us to the door as he turns out the lamps one by one leaving her in darkness.
Locking the big oak door and then the barred gate at the top he hands me the keys.
“Come and release her from the wall and then take her by the path through the woods to your place for a few hours and then bring her back before dawn and lock her back in there. Feed her twice a day, a bit of bread and cheese will do I think!” He grinned at me and, whistling, walked to his horses, mounting one and leading the other back to the stables. “Oh there's a large wad of cash in my office for you! Just ask my aide for the green envelope.”
I walk back up to the house behind him leading the other horse as he has his feeling bemused and wondering what the hell I have got myself into. My Lady is still very attractive and more my age than my Lord Melchard, but this is a little unnerving.
Peter Walsh was in his office and I knocked, “Afternoon Stan,” he smiled, “come for your account?”
I nod and he pulls out a green envelope and a block of cheese wrapped in a cloth.
“My lord asked me to give you the cheese as a gift for the women in your life. He says your mum made him a cake so this is to say thank you!” I thank him and smile. Mum’s cakes were rather good and as she cooked for their Lordships on a weekend when his normal cook was off; it was a good call by my lord.
I leave and walk back by the ice house looking at it thinking about the Lady within. Cutting through the woods and back down into the village.
I go via my mum’s and give her half the block of cheese and collect some more parkin and some flapjack. Calling by the village store, I pay my tick for my grocery bill, and get some more cocoa and a pack of bacon. Calling at the bank just before it closes, I hand over the majority of the money, keeping a bit to pay the lads, and thank God for his providence.
The lads go home and I finish some small jobs off, while waiting for it to get dark; most people are in bed early in the village. Only a few have electric lights, most of us use oil or candles.
I don't sleep well since the war so I'm known to be up late so I don't have much worry about Bob, our village bobby, wondering what's happening if my lights are on.
I cross behind my small veg patch and climb the hill to the woods moving quietly into the darkness. An owl hoots and a mouse scuttles away as I move down to the ice house and quietly open the gate and unlock the door. Lighting one of the lamps I breathe in the smell of my lady and the faint odour of wee.
She stirs; I use the master key to unlock the head cage and ease out the lump of metal, placing it on the bed she is sitting on. She has been crying. “Are you okay my lady?” I ask as I unlock the manacles holding her legs to the wall and sit her up.
She drops her head on to my shoulders and sobs for a bit as I hold her enjoying the feel of her skin through my shirt. “I'm fine,” she sighs as she lifts her head up. “My arms and breasts are numb and the beastly head cage has made my mouth so sore!”
I look at her hands and don't like the look of them so undo them first and watch her arms just hand beside her I rub her from shoulders to wrists trying to get the blood flowing again. Her breasts are a funny purple colour and I unlock the cuffs from them. This makes her cry again as the blood rushes out. When she can move her arms she rubs her breasts as I watch.
I try the keys I have but cannot find one for the collar and decide he must want it leaving on. Her ankle cuffs come off next and I help her stand. She moves over to the bucket and pees into it using a length of cloth to wipe herself.
She has a great body and I do want to touch her. It's been a long time since I have held a woman,
Emily looks at me and smiles. “What's for tea? I am famished,” she laughs, and continues, “can we go to your place as I am feeling a bit cold now?”
I wonder how to get her back to the garage without being seen, and I mention it. “Well as I will be in chains we will have to go slowly and carefully won't we!” she grins.
She is unreal, I think, as she points out a set of manacles. Holding out her leg for me to lock it on her ankle I place each one round and turn the key. Handing me some wrist ones I lock them on her at the rear of the belt using a very clever swivel loop.
“Ready my lady?” She just nods and off we go, me really hoping not to bump into anyone, as this could take some bloody explaining.
I help her up the stairs to the top and lock up behind me. It has just started to rain a bit. She looks across the dark fields and shivers. I notice her breasts as they quiver and decide that we need to move quickly; taking her upper arm, I lead her into the gloom. Her short steps are a little annoying as it takes a lot longer to get where we are going, but I guess it's what she wants so I move with her, catching her if she stumbles.
We move without talking, just the clink of her chains and the soft cool breeze in the trees with the pitter patter of the steady rainfall. I should have brought a greatcoat or a blanket, I think, as I hold her arm to keep her upright, feeling the wetness of her skin.
We crest the hill above the village and I can make out the back way to the field at the back of the garage.
There's movement and I spot the village bobby wandering across the back of my place and down into the dull light of the gas lamp on the corner of the pub. My lady notices, and looks at me for reassurance; I nod and we set off angling away from the direction he went in.
I stop us at the old railway wagon box van we use for storage and stand listening for any noise.
A dog barks up the street and I know where the bobby is. We move as fast as we can to the sliding door at the back of my workshop and enter. My lady is shivering. Cold or fear, I know not, but I pick her up and carry her to the office, making her kneel in front of the fire, waiting for her to stop shivering as she looks at the kettle.
I smile and put it over the fire banking it up and chuck the frying pan on the grill. Some bacon soon sizzles away and I go get a bowl of water. My lady isn't really talking much. Maybe as her teeth are still chattering away, she cannot really speak.
Bathing her feet changed something in both of us I think. They say that's why Jesus did it to his subjects. Well for me it was the thing that changed, for her, maybe the bacon sandwich. Or the sex. Maybe the sex.
I sat her down and held her buttie for her as at first she nibbled then took great mouthfuls out of the two sandwiches I made for her. She looked quite cute with the fat dripping down her chin, I thought, as some of it dripped onto her breasts; the sound she made as she sipped on the cocoa laced with brandy made up for the effort.
It was as I bathed her feet and picked some of the small twigs out that she asked me. “Do you find me attractive, Stan?”
“Of course my lady you are so lovely!”
“Emily! this week I am not your lady, I am your slave!” She looks at me. “I am forty, you know. I know I am weird but this is what I am. But I love my husband and he loves me enough to let me do this with you!”
I looked at her. “It is going to be a difficult task as I need your husband's business, and I only just met you, and we haven't even kissed yet. What do you want from me?”
“Bind me hard and use me. But look after me too. I will give myself to you only in bondage. But I must be kept chained up until my husband comes home. I don't know if you can keep me here during the day so I am to go back to the ice house if you are not available to look after me due to you being busy here.”
I smiled at her. “You are very different, my- err- Emily.” I grin.
She lifts her legs out of my hands, places her feet on my lap and rubs them on my erection through my trousers . Kneeling in front of her, I smile and stroke the back of her legs. We sat like that for ages. She asked for her cocoa and I moved to get it, holding the mug for her as she sipped at it.
“It’s this bit I really like. I am helpless. I need someone. I am normally the lady of the house with staff and respectability. When I am like this I am nothing. A slave.”
We chat for a bit and she eases me into the role of her gaoler. Gaoler with benefits, she tells me.
“Undress for me!” she asks.
I stand and open my jacket and then I strip as she looks.
“Do your wounds hurt?” She had seen my scars on my back and shoulders.
“If I am honest, my lady, it’s only in cold weather my face hurts. The rest is only tight when I raise my arms above my head.”
I ease my socks off and stand in front of the fire and drop my trousers. She smiles, drops to her knees and shuffles forward, having to raise herself up to be able to take the end of my penis in her mouth.
Sucking hard on the end of it she uses her tongue to lick underneath the end of the head, lowering back on to her heels, holding me in her mouth until my shaft stood straight from my body. All the time she looked up at me, never taking her eyes off mine.
Now to be honest I’d never had this done to me and it was amazing; I’d heard of it but never had it happen. Rocking on her heels she moves along my shaft, swallowing me deeper with each rock. Oh god, it was so good. The chains clink softly with the rhythm of her movement.
It comes to an end quietly. I groan and try to pull away but she follows my hips, keeping a good suction as I lose control in her mouth. She opens her mouth and I sort of stagger backwards, looking for a place to sit down.
“Did you enjoy that?” she smiles at me as I sigh and grin at her.
“Never had this done to me if I am honest with you, my lady.”
I watch as she shuffles over to me and lays her head on my lap, rubbing her forehead on my now shrinking penis. “My husband only gets this when I am restrained, as a lady doesn’t do these kinds of things, you know!”
“He is a very lucky man.” I stroke her cheek and play with her hair.
“Keep me in restraints and this thing will happen, again and more. I do have to pay for my keep, you know!”
I could feel her smile on my thigh and she popped the end of my penis back into her mouth and gently suckled on it. And like magic it came alive again.
“What can I do for you?” I gasp, as she slides her mouth up and down my shaft.
“I’ll think of something later," she sort of mumbles.
So I just sat there and enjoyed the experience and gave her what I had left. Soon it was time to take her back to the ice house.
We carefully navigate the wood and down to the ice house. I open the door and ease the chained woman down the stairs. I lock her ankles to the cuffs that come under the bed. Clean her slop bucket in the large bin. I replace it in the ceĺl and locking it all up wander back into the village whistling away to myself. Could life get any better?