Free Perfect Slave by Becky Bell

guessed they were in the stable block she had seen from the air as she’d arrived on Saturday. There were a series of doors along the left-hand side, identical to the one where she’d been confined.
    â€˜In here.’
    Laurie turned into the last door at the end of the corridor, and Andrea followed her.
    The room was identical in shape to the one Andrea had occupied, but instead of a bed it had a large dressing table and two chairs. Laid out on the dressing table were every conceivable type of cosmetics, as well as make-up brushes, bottles of perfume and a large jar of cotton balls. A chunky woman of about fifty, in a plain black dress, was sitting in one of the chairs.
    â€˜She’s required in ten minutes,’ Laurie said. She came up to Andrea and began untying her hands. Andrea felt a rush of blood to her forearms as she was able to lower them again. The rope had left marks on Andrea’s wrists.
    â€˜Nice figure,’ the woman commented. ‘Is she the new one?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Mr Hawksworth has very good taste.’
    â€˜Just get her ready.’
    Laurie marched out of the room, leaving the door open.
    â€˜Sit down.’
    Andrea did as she was told. The woman got to her feet and began unlacing the leather hood. She pulled it off over Andrea’s head then picked up a hairbrush and began brushing out her hair. Apparently satisfied that it was neatly set, she sat in the second chair and began to apply make-up to Andrea’s face.
    There was no mirror above the dressing table so Andrea could not see what she was doing. She was not using the sort of colours that Andrea would have ever used for herself. She varnished Andrea’s fingernails in a deep, almost scarlet red. From now on, Andrea realised, even the ability to do her own make-up was going to be taken away from her.
    â€˜Is she ready?’ Laurie had walked back into the room.
    â€˜Just the lips.’ The woman brushed on a lipstick that matched the nail varnish.
    â€˜Mmm...’ Laurie said, examining Andrea’s face. ‘She’ll do.’ She opened one of the drawers in the dressing table and took out a pair of metal handcuffs.
    â€˜Up,’ she said to Andrea. ‘Hands behind your back.’ Andrea obeyed. She felt the cold metal being clipped around her wrists. ‘Follow.’
    This time Laurie opened the larger door at the end of the corridor. It led out into the garden. There was a pathway made from flagstones, and covered with wooden trellising draped with honeysuckle and vine, to the back of the main house.
    Both the women’s high-heels clacked on the stone. It was almost dark now and a distinctly chilly breeze had sprung up. If Andrea’s nipples had not already been knotted by her excitement, this would have certainly caused them to do so.
    The house was warm. Inside the door Andrea saw a small rack of brass hooks. Hanging from each hook was a metal chain, like a dog leash. Laurie unhooked one and clipped the snap-lock at one end into the ring on Andrea’s steel collar. She then led her onward.
    They walked under the stairs and out to the sitting room where Andrea had been on Saturday night. The room was deserted but she could hear voices; men’s voices coming from the dining room.
    â€˜Wait here,’ Laurie said. There was a blazing fire in the grate of the large fireplace in the sitting room, and Laurie dropped the leash and left Andrea standing by it as she went into the dining room, closing the door behind her.
    Andrea looked around. She noticed the china umbrella stand with the leather whips and remembered how the maid had been punished standing exactly where she stood now.
    The dining room door opened and Laurie came out. She took hold of the leash again and led Andrea forward.
    â€˜Remember, you are not to speak unless you are asked a direct question.’
    â€˜Yes, Ms Angelis.’
    Charles Hawksworth sat at the circular table, with two other