Perfect Slave by Becky Bell Page A

pulling back but holding himself deep inside her as he yelled out that he was coming. At that exact moment Andrea came too. As her sex clenched reflexively around the candle it dripped more hot wax over her buttocks, the tingling pain serving to increase her pleasure.
    Donald pulled out of his wife. ‘Come on, lets go upstairs,’ he grunted.
    Erica straightened up. Her dress fell back around her thighs. ‘Pity we can’t take her with us.’ She blew the candle out and slipped it out of Andrea’s sex.
    Donald pulled up his trousers and they walked out, hand in hand.
    Andrea straightened up, not at all sure what she should do now. She hoped there wasn’t another camera recording what had just happened. If there was the master would know she came again. She was convinced that was the reason he looked at her with such disapproval. She knew she should have saved herself for him. And now she’d been provoked again. Perhaps, as it was his guests who’d caused it this time he would be more understanding. He left her alone with them, after all.
    She longed to be taken to him. She longed to be alone with him. She wouldn’t mind if he wanted to punish her for what she’d done. She deserved it. She would welcome it.
    The door to the kitchen swung open. Two maids emerged, both wearing the short black dresses and lace aprons Andrea had seen the maid wearing on Saturday night. They completely ignored her and began clearing away the table. One was short with a round doll-like face and short brown hair, while the other was as tall as Andrea, with wavy red hair.
    â€˜What am I supposed to do now?’ she asked.
    â€˜You’re not allowed to talk,’ the redhead snapped.
    It took several trips back to the kitchen to clear the table completely. As soon as it was done Andrea was left alone again.
    She was intensely aware of her buttocks. The candle wax had solidified and seemed to be pulling at her flesh. It was not an unpleasant sensation. She looked down at her body, her breasts thrust out by the shelf-like bra of the basque, her nipples still knotted into tightly corrugated buttons.
    Her body ached from the tightness of the corset and from her bondage, the metal handcuffs chafing against her wrists. But she didn’t care. All she cared about was seeing her master again. It had all gone wrong and it was all her fault. She stood where she was without moving, not daring to sit down in case that too was held against her.
    It was an hour before the door from the sitting room opened.
    â€˜Follow me.’
    Laurie’s expression was one of disinterest. If Hawksworth had told her how displeased he was with Andrea it didn’t show on her face.
    They walked to the stairs. Andrea felt her pulse begin to race as Andrea led her up the wide carpeted steps to the first floor. Was she being taken to see her master?
    The answer was clearly no. They passed the double doors that looked as if they belonged to the main bedroom, and headed up a second, much narrower staircase to the floor above. Here Laurie opened a door and shepherded Andrea into a small bedroom. It was prettily decorated with flowery print wallpaper, and had all the normal bedroom furniture including a wardrobe, bedside tables and a small double bed.
    There was another door in the room which Andrea could see led to a small white-tiled bathroom.
    Laurie caught hold of Andrea’s wrists and undid the handcuffs.
    â€˜Strip off,’ she said.
    â€˜What’s going to happen to me?’
    â€˜How many times am I going to have to tell you not to speak unless you’re spoken to?’
    â€˜Sorry, Ms Angelis, but...’ Andrea knew better than to go on. She quickly unhooked the basque, then sat on the bed to pull off her shoes and stockings. It looked as if Hawksworth had no intention of seeing her again that night.
    â€˜There’s a bathroom next-door. Do not remove your make-up.’
    Laurie picked up all the