Free Perfect Slave by Becky Bell Page B

girl wearing a tight red satin basque, her head entirely covered by a black leather helmet. It took a few seconds to realise it was her, the long white rope pulled up between her legs.
    â€˜Look at that,’ Donald said, leaning forward in his chair.’
    Erica sat down next to him and stared at the screen. Andrea’s body squirmed against the rope, her hips grinding from side to side, her breasts trembling. She was making little gasps and moans of pleasure as she moved. The camera zoomed in on Andrea’s pubis, the cords of the rope buried in her almost hairless labia. Then the lens travelled up over the red satin basque to her nipples, the dark red flesh puckered and tight.
    â€˜She’s bringing herself off,’ Erica said. The American’s hand had slipped into her husband’s lap and was rubbing against the fly of his trousers, where a large bulge distended the material.
    Andrea was fascinated by watching herself on the screen. It seemed as if her whole body was focussed on her sex, every movement sawing the rope into her labia. The extraordinary thing was that just as her clitoris had throbbed wildly then, it was pulsing with almost as much energy as she watched herself now. She could already feel a trickle of wetness leaking over the top of her thigh.
    â€˜Do you do this to all of them?’ Donald asked.
    â€˜No,’ Hawksworth said, with no further explanation.
    On screen Andrea’s whole body was trembling. She saw the fingers of her bound hands under her chin stretch out as if trying to catch a ball, her wrists pulling at the rope that bound them to the steel collar. Her breasts were quivering. She stepped forward, the rope biting even deeper. ‘Master,’ her voice said, and then repeated the word in one long whisper.
    The television screen went blank.
    Hawksworth turned and walked back to the table. His eyes were looking straight at Andrea again, and he looked as if he were angry with her. She had been so engrossed in watching herself she had not noticed Hawksworth’s reaction to her performance, but he was very obviously not pleased.
    â€˜I have some things to do,’ he said, turning his attention to Donald and Erica. ‘Would you excuse me?’
    â€˜Sure thing. What about her?’
    â€˜Leave her where she is,’ he said, glancing back at Andrea. The tone of his voice cut her to the core. It was complete indifference. ‘I’ll see you both for breakfast in the morning.’ He walked out of the room and closed the door.
    â€˜Put it on again,’ Donald said immediately.
    â€˜What for? We’ve got the real thing.’
    â€˜We’re not allowed to have her, you know that. She’s not had any training yet.’
    â€˜There’s a load of ways to skin a cat, Don.’
    Erica got to her feet. She glanced around the room, as if searching for something. Her eyes alighted on the thick candles that flickered in the candelabra. She blew one out and lifted it from the silver holder.
    â€˜Open your legs,’ she said.
    Andrea didn’t know what to do. For some reason she did not understand she had offended her master. She didn’t want to make the same mistake again. She could only imagine that if he had left her with these people he meant for her to obey their commands, so hesitantly she moved her legs apart.
    Erica pulled out one of the chairs from the table.
    â€˜Now bend right over. Rest your forehead on this chair.’ Andrea obeyed, well aware that in this position her sex was fully exposed. ‘Legs wider apart.’
    She spread her legs out further. She could feel her labia parting. They would be able to see how wet she was.
    Erica’s hand touched the small of her back. She felt something cylindrical being inserted into the mouth of her vagina. Erica was pushing the candle into her body.
    â€˜Look at that,’ Donald said under his breath.
    The candle went deeper. It was not as broad as a penis, but