Lost Property (4 page)

Chapter Three

The first part of the following week passed uneventfully but on the Wednesday, Kath’s office door opened without warning and Mostyn entered again. This time he strode straight over to Kath and planted his fists on the front of her desk, leaning across so that he loomed over her.

“Rather than punishing you in the office for mistakes I just know I’m going to find when I start looking again, I’m going to suggest – your dinner dates permitting of course! – that I take rather more time about it. I have to go somewhere at the end of the week and I’d like you to accompany me. It’ll be overnight, we’ll leave here mid-afternoon. I’ve cleared it with your team leader.”

He didn’t wait for a reply.

Kath sat staring stupidly at the door after he had closed it. It just hadn’t entered his head that she might not be able – might not
want
– to go with him. But then she had played the compliant subby for all she was worth and if she was honest, she could feel herself moistening as she replayed the scene in her mind…the way he had towered over her at her desk, the way his will had almost formed a bow wave in front of him when he entered. And there was the possibility of getting what her Mistress wanted, which opened up the prospect of being on the receiving end of two dominants’ pleasures.

That night saw some controlled panic at Angie’s apartment. Stripped in front of the cheval mirror in the bedroom Kath examined her backside by twisting around as best she could while Angie lathered on Witch Hazel and anything else they could think of to try and make the bruising from the cane dissipate before the night of the trip. By applying all the various lotions morning and night – and Kath putting some on during the day – her bottom was more or less clear by the day in question.

“Ready to take plenty more!” Mistress declared before Kath set off for work, then she suddenly went serious and came close to Kath to kiss her gently on the lips.

“You know how much I enjoy sharing you around,” she said and Kath nodded. Many had been the time that Mistress had stood and passed humorous comments while other Mistresses’ playthings had fucked her. “But this time is different. It’s work and I won’t be happy till you’re back safe and sound. Then by God I’ll flay you, so make sure you come back with something juicy about Proteus!” She favoured Kath with a smile that set her heart thumping and she left walking on air, looking forward to serving her Mistress and getting her just desserts.

John Carpenter’s office at The Lodge, the most select and secretive SM club in the land was, at first sight, not where a lot of people expected. It wasn’t above the main entrance overlooking the sweeping parkland and woods beyond, instead it was tucked away at the end of the massive frontage with windows on two aspects. It did overlook part of the views to the front but also it had three windows on the side of the main building that overlooked the stableyard. It also meant that he could see over the trees to where the equestrian arena now stood and the new CSL stables beyond that. In The Lodge’s own stableyard, directly below him, the Housegirls who were required to serve as ponies by their owners or by members of The Lodge were stabled and catered for. Farther away, the fighting girls of the CSL stable trained in the arena and were housed in the new stableyard, which was even now being extended; meaning that the members were having to do without ponies as the CSL slaves were being housed in the old stables temporarily. No one was complaining because he and Carlo – who jointly owned the CSL stable – were offering out the CSL slaves at greatly reduced rates while the work was finished. From over at the new stables the sounds of angle grinders and drills at work drifted up.

Soon there would be twenty slaves housed by CSL, the only stable on the arena circuit that didn’t have its own full-sized arena but which specialised instead in training up slaves who could be hired in to strengthen other stables’ squads. It was a far bigger stable now than Carlo had ever envisaged, but change was everywhere. CSL was changing, the whole arena landscape was changing and one of the main agents of that change was the other occupant of the room. There was a third person present but as she was a Housegirl who was currently receiving a vigorous beating with a crop, she didn’t really count.

John turned from contemplating the view as Clive Mostyn paused in his beating for a moment.

“We should be ready to go in about a fortnight,” he said without taking his eyes off the quivering buttocks of the girl in front of him. Having delivered a salvo of full blooded lashes he made her jump by delivering a few light flicks at various targets. The girl cast an anxious glance at John, who, as owner of The Lodge, was her owner as well, and settled again. “What can you let us have?” Mostyn asked, placing the crop against her bottom and settling his feet so that the girl knew hard strokes were coming. Then he made her wait.

John was impressed. Mostyn couldn’t have afforded a day’s membership of The Lodge but he understood how to play on a submissive’s fear and excitement, so he was clearly experienced at handling submissive girlflesh.

“I can let you have Jet and Cherry with Helga as groom for a fortnight in the South.”

Mostyn nodded thoughtfully and then let fly with a hard lash. The girl let out a stifled scream and arched her back, pushing her face up from her crossed arms and frantically wriggling her stern. Mostyn quietened her by laying the crop against her skin once more.

“They’re docile enough to cope with the change in routine and personnel,” John went on.

“Indeed,” Mostyn agreed and treated the girl to another hard whack.

“You can have Brian as instructor. Carlo will be away with Blondie, Ox, Trouble and a couple of the others at the N’Benga arena. I’ll need Tony to keep an eye on things here.”

“Ok. That sounds fine. What are your thoughts about the other place?”

The crop blurred once more as it scythed into the prominent and inviting buttocks. The girl’s back humped and her feet jigged about as she fought to contain the pain. Mostyn smiled and inserted three fingers between her spread legs. He worked her until she was squelching shamelessly then withdrew them and tapped her bottom with the crop again.

“I’ll send Blackie and Legs with Anne Marie as groom. They’re relatively new but they’re docile too.”

Whack! The girl’s long legs bent and her breath hissed as she absorbed the strike, which John had to admit was a stern one. The new uniform suited the tall girl’s build well he thought.

The new uniform.

Suddenly it seemed as if change was everywhere. Even Madame Stalevsky was talking about early retirement, the formidable ex-ballerina who had schooled The Lodge’s Housegirls to a standard that made them world famous was in her late fifties now. She had redesigned the uniforms almost as if it was a kind of swansong, giving in at last to the members’ desire to have the girls’ bodies more easily available.

She had started with superbly tailored and boned corsets and had had the skirts sewn onto a broad waistband that could be removed by two simple clips at the back. The skirts themselves were split front and back but with ample overlap so the front one only revealed itself when the girl walked and even then – owing to the underskirts sewn in – they only hinted at the length and shapeliness of the limbs beneath. The result was that any member, or even this comparative upstart, Mostyn, could easily have a girl bare herself below the waist and beat her while enjoying the length of her stockinged legs and the quivering fullness of her smooth buttocks.

“Who can you get to instruct the first students if you need Tony here?” Mostyn asked, tapping at the girl’s bottom repeatedly.

“I’ll provide you with Peter Lang.”

Whack!

Mostyn looked up, impressed, while the girl’s arse gyrated desperately.

“You can get him?”

“With what the government’s paying, it wasn’t easy. But, yes, I’ve got him.”

“Welcome to the public sector!” Mostyn gave him a cheeky grin and whacked in another lash, fetching a pretty, warbling cry from the girl.

John turned back to contemplating the view again as Mostyn gestured the girl to rise. He would need a blow job, and as far as John was concerned, the quicker the girl could see to him and bring the meeting to a successful close, the better. Another truck was roaring away from the building site at the CSL stableyard. The builders worked for a company owned by one of the members and the men’s silence about anything they might see had been bought by the use of the Housegirls.

It was all change, he reflected again. Even governments were moving in on the arenas, it wasn’t just here in the UK but all over the world. And it wasn’t as if they were trying to stifle them and outlaw them any more. They had tried that and failed. Now they wanted to be involved – and share in the revenue of course - and in the UK one of The Lodge’s oldest members was the moving force behind it in the corridors of power. MacIntyre – he of the eccentric waistcoats that the tabloids seldom saw beyond and who was content with the nickname of ‘Dandy’– was manoeuvring towards the ultimate goal of making the arenas street legal.

John knew he meant well but both he and Carlo were anxious. Then again Carlo had never really seen beyond his slaves’ performance out on the sands of the arena floors. That was what had made him great in the past, but was it enough in these changing times? John had always tried to see the bigger picture, the trouble was now that the picture could get almost too big!

A grunt of pleasure drew John’s attention back to the room and he turned to see Mostyn face fucking the girl who was kneeling before him, his hands gripped tightly in her thick, wavy, chestnut hair.

He pushed her away as he finished spending, not bothering to let her clean him properly, pulled his trousers up and zipped his flies. She stood up, daintily wiping her chin with a finger and licking it clean, waiting to see if she was required for anything else. He noticed that she couldn’t resist a quick rub at her bottom and a twist to see if she could see any of her welts.

If Madame had seen her she would have been in solitary for a fortnight, Madame held that no girl had any business being interested in what had been done to her as long as there was the possibility that she might need to serve again. John didn’t object however, he liked seeing girls take an intelligent interest in their use.

“The agreed amount will be transferred at the end of this week,” Mostyn said, gathering up his briefcase.

“Do you really think this will work?” John asked.

“It will. Part of society’s got too fat and too safe and too cosseted. Part’s got too feral. The arenas will act as safety valves for both. It’s not a case of it might work, it’s a case of it
must
work. Our research shows inner cities in particular are going to become wastelands if we don’t do something. Now, I’ve got a prime candidate for Proteus waiting in my hotel room, so I’ll be off and call you later in the week.”

John rang down to reception for a girl to come and show Mostyn out while he went back to the window and looked out over the changing CSL stable. If this all went as the government wanted – what would the stock be like? Where would the girls come from? How would they be trained for life in the arenas?
Could
they be trained at all?

They were all questions that he wasn’t sure he or Carlo had the answers to any more. He glanced back at the girl who was still standing quietly, legs neatly together, hands behind her back. Well, there were at least still some well trained girls bought from auction as they had always been……he clicked his fingers and she came to stand beside him.

Her corset mounded her pale, smooth skinned breasts up to perfection, coyly hiding the areolas and the nipples but nothing above them. It nipped her waist in so that her hips flared out spectacularly and at her neatly shaven delta an equally neat vulva just afforded a glimpse of the cleft between its lips. John felt his cock begin to unfurl and thicken as he contemplated the delights this recent purchase was offering. She kept her eyes respectfully lowered but he could see from the rise and fall of her breast that she was fully aware of the fact that none other than John Carpenter, owner of The Lodge was thinking about using her.

It occurred to him that in the midst of all this change through which he would have to navigate, there were still plenty of things that were changeless. One of them was the way that his body never failed to respond to the carnal smorgasbord The Lodge offered. He reached out a hand and ran his fingers over the ripe swells of breastflesh, the girl’s breath caught in her throat in excitement. John looked past her to where the CCTV monitors showed the dungeons currently in use far below where he currently stood.

“Go down to Dungeon Five,” he told her. “Tell whoever’s on duty I want you mounted for…..” He paused to consider, her backside was already well marked, and her back was best left for the guests later on. “Breastwork. Have them put out all the implements.”

“Yes, Sir.” With a waft of perfume she went from his side, put her skirt on and glided out to do his bidding. Mostyn had had her mouth, but when he was ready he would sample her cunt. The responsiveness of a well trained woman after an hour or two in a dungeon with skilled breastwork thrown in was assured. He would enjoy her womanhood – eventually – and she would be properly grateful. That was another changeless certainty; and he needed those just now.

Kath had been expecting one of those anonymous roadside stopover hotels, which seemed appropriate for a workplace affair. However, Mr Mostyn had driven them to a substantial market town with a wide thoroughfare through its centre and booked them into a hotel that presented a stately Georgian front to the prosperous boutiques and organic food emporia that lined the old market place.

He had taken off on his business and left her to wander about and explore for a couple of hours. She had phoned Angie and told her the name of the town and the hotel, just to be on the safe side. Then after a pleasant meander and window shop, she had noticed that time was getting on and decided to take a shower in plenty of time before dinner was served.