Free Bedtime Confessions (The Chambermaid's Tales - Short Stories) by Sarah Michelle Lynch Page A

other dommes as the ‘one who wouldn't be quelled’. He was feared and revered, equally. He was one of those men who posed a challenge and a problem. Not an easy job therefore. You couldn't just turn up for an evening's work and see him on his way, not without an extraordinary match taking place. Perhaps I would prove to be more than his equal, and perhaps, this is why I had always declined to be one of his Mistresses. I did not like feeling on a par with anyone; it meant the potential for bonds being formed. I was a solitary she-devil, doing only what I needed to.
    Yes, I was not sure what I was up against. But I was going to give it a go.
    The name he had come to be known by was given – apparently – because he had some loose ties with aristocracy, though none that could be verified. I suppose everyone thought of him as a rather crude kind of gentleman who was not really the sort we usually dealt with, though he was of course moneyed.
    I was warned first and foremost, this was a man who would need to receive real, untamed punishment. He needed it in abundance and of course, not all of the girls appreciate being made to cut and slice their slaves open, if they can help it. We all prefer to play the part and practise the art, but that is about it. My own lust for bloodshed is something I do not like to unleash unless it is required of me for a real purpose. This man was paying to simply get hurt, not learn any lessons from it.
    This man needed real, unadulterated bloodthirstiness from me. Maybe that day, I was willing to give it to him. Perhaps I was just in the mood.
    I gathered all the equipment I would need, including several different retractable spreaders, ropes, harnesses, pulleys and all manner of gadgetry that I may use to bend and splay him; contort and arouse him.
    I planned to use every trick in the book. I knew he m ay be my last or even penultimate client, whichever; I was aware of making them count ‒ those dwindling experiences. I was up for retirement.
    I was given an address and told to meet him there. It was a large mansion up in the north of Nottinghamshire. The house lay behind intimidating black gates and a security system that could rival the crib of any gangster rapper worth his gold. This place, as I saw through the slits of the barriers I came up against, was a mansion so well-kept. Not a hedgerow or a topiary bush, or a piece of gravel from the drive, was out of place. I don't know why… but it all raised the hairs on the back of my neck.
    The place just bothered me. It looked dreary and cold, beneath the sparkling façade. There was nobody running around, except for the put-upon gardeners and other servants dashing about to get their jobs done. No cars. Just a perfect house and a security system that seemed unwarranted.
    I buzzed the gate and waited. I heard a quiet clunk and the gates slowly began sliding open. Nobody invited m e in. I drove on and heard the metal smash shut behind me.
    I didn't know where to park the A8. Maybe right at the front door? I didn't know! There were no other vehicles to pull up alongside. Like I said, aside from the hired help, the place seemed desolate. It seemed to hold some kind of atmosphere of loss. The building was large and had more than a dozen windows at the front, plus a number of smaller extensions at the back. It probably once housed a family or two, or three, but now it was bereft of life.
    As I pulled to a halt at the side of a grass verge, just a few metres away from the front door, a butler walked up to me as I got out of the car. He was wearing the stuffiest uniform I had ever seen and I realised, he was in the dress of some Victorian servant! All starched collars and tails.
    He beckoned in a monotone voice, “Keys, Madam,” and I gave them to him, holding my hand out without thinking. He jumped in the car and drove away, taking my top-of-the-range machine to the back of the house, where I imagined a garage of some sort may reside.
    Clearing