Submissive in Surrey Ch. 07

Author's Note: This chapter took a long time; firstly due to illness, and then because of the curse of blank-page inertia. My apologies for this, but I hope you enjoy this chapter anyway. Feedback is always welcome. - W. M.

Submissive in Surrey

Chapter 7: Netty and Myf's Excellent Adventure

I couldn't say what the dream was about. Generally, my memory takes a nap along with my consciousness whenever sleep claims me. All I remember is that it was a happy dream. I could feel the smile pulling at my cheeks. It was good. Serene.

And then, someone yanked the covers off me. Instantly, the cold morning air shocked me and dragged my eyes open.

"What...? What's happenin'?"

I wasn't immediately answered. Instead, something cold and hard slapped against the soles of my feet. Yelping, I sat up and my eyes focused on Myf, wearing her familiar maid outfit and holding a steel ruler.

"Get up, slut," she ordered. "I'm up, so everyone's up. And don't take all day about it either," she added.

I looked toward the window. It was dawn or near it. "B-but it's stupid o'clock in the morning - "

then yelped again as the flat surface of the ruler hit my soles again. "Okay, okay! Shit..."

"Is that any way to speak to your Lady Myfanwy? Mistress has to leave early, and if she leaves without seeing you, you remain under punishment."

Oh, yeah, I remembered. Last night... I rubbed my hand over the rope burn imprint on my upper arm, fading but still there. "No, Milady," I answered, improvising like mad, "but you must admit, your outfit doesn't suggest dominatrix. I apologize."

"Good," she responded, her spontaneous giggle belying her temporary position. "Mistress expects you downstairs ready for breakfast in five minutes, so don't dawdle." With that, she turned to leave the bedroom, and I immediately thought of the old saw, I hate to see her go, but I love watching her leave.

Five minutes didn't give me any time for primping; I dressed in a simple blouse and jeans, quickly checked my appearance, and hurried down the stairs. Jan, Mistress Janet rather, was sitting at the breakfast table, looking mildly annoyed at me as if I were late, even though I'd hurried. I put my hands on the back of a chair, ready to pull it out and sit. Mistress would have none of it. I didn't even get out my "Good morning, Mistress" before she silenced me with a glare and a finger pointed at the floor. She said only one word to me: "Kneel."

I knelt. I kept my mouth shut. I waited.

I kept waiting while Lady Myfanwy returned. I waited through the sounds of two plates being placed on the table and the sounds of two sets of cutlery clinking on fine china. I waited though my mouth was watering and my stomach rumbling.

Finally, Mistress placed her cutlery on her plate and turned her attention to me. "Did you obey me last night, slut? Did you refrain from pleasuring yourself after I left you alone? Look up at me and answer."

I looked up and met her gaze. "I fell asleep almost immediately, Mistress. I was exhausted. I swear, I did not touch myself."

A long moment drew out between us. Mistress Janet's grey-blue eyes seemed to penetrate clear through to my soul. "I believe you," she finally said. "Now, tell me what you've learned from your punishment."

My throat dried up. I was expecting a lecture, a lesson, but it looked like I was going to have to provide my own. It made sense: how better to show what you've learned?

"Mistress, I..." I cleared my throat. "I was, am, self-centred. I was concerned with myself. I said I had failed you, but I'd only hurt my own ego. I'd never even paid attention to you or Myf - Lady Myfanwy, or I'd have understood that by your standards, the night had been a success. You'd wanted to praise and reward me, but I could not see past my desire to punish myself."

I paused. Mistress nodded. "And?"

"And, Mistress... it's not up to me. I asked you to take me on as your sub. In doing that, I placed my trust in you to dispense punishment and reward. It's ignorant and arrogant to then take it on myself. I ask you to please forgive me."

"Do you think you'll do it again?" Mistress asked, her voice neutral.

"Honestly, Mistress? I'll do my best not to, but I probably will. I've been the same way for years now."

"Hmph. I wasn't expecting such candor. Most people would just swear to never do it again."

She sighed, then favoured me with a wry half-smile. "You've been my sub for less than a full day. I shouldn't expect miracles. I understand there's a lot of issues behind your behaviour, and I'll help you with them however I can. As Kipling said, you have to meet with Triumph and Disaster and treat those two impostors just the same. But for now, let me just warn you: if there's a relapse of this self-punishment tendency of yours, next time you'll be eating your breakfast out of a dog bowl without the use of your hands."

"Yes, Mistress."

Mistress Jan extended her hand to me, and I gently took it and kissed her fingers. She then cupped my face. "Rise. Your punishment is over. Sit and eat your breakfast."

I hadn't noticed, but Myf had left for the kitchen while I was performing my confession. Now she returned and placed my breakfast before me. "Here you are, Netty. Spanish omelette."

"Thank you, Milady," I said before starting to eat.

"Back to regular names, Annette," Jan rejoindered.

"Oh, er, sorry, Jan," I stammered. "You shift gears so smoothly, I fall behind sometimes."

"Early days, Annette. You'll catch on quickly, I know. Now then, the reason I have to leave early is I have procedures to perform today. I don't have to go too far away today, just to the Moorfields eye hospital in Thornton Heath, so I'll be back this evening, hopefully in time for supper. I mustn't be late though. My first procedure is for a detached retina, and the quicker you get to those, the better the prognosis."

"I had no idea you could even fix a detached retina, Jan." I was watching her hands, and marvelled that they were equally capable of restoring sight as they were capable of chastising me.

"Oh, the odds are very good of a successful reattachment these days," Jan responded. "I'll be using a technique called pneumatic retinopexy. It consists of injecting a gas bubble into the eye to pressure the retina back where it belongs. I'll then seal any holes or tears in the eye with a laser."

I stole a quick glance at Myf, just in time to see her face lose its colour. " 'Scuse me," she said before hurrying back to the kitchen.

"Are you all right, Myf?" Jan called. "It's all right, I'll stop talking about it." After Myf returned, Jan addressed me. "Annette, I'd like you to do something for me while I'm gone. I'll leave you some cash. You said the Mini is all right to drive for short distances. I'd like you to drive into Ravensthorp high street and buy the items you said the car needs. Would you do that for me?"

A team of contract cleaners could not have wiped the smile from my face. "I'd love to, Jan, it'll be great to have something to do. And, um, thank you for trusting me with 'Coop'."

"Well, you convinced me that continuing to let her rot in the garage was a bad idea. Myf, you may go with Annette, if you'd like."

"Can I, Mistress? Yes, please!"

"Well, that's settled then. When I return I'll look at removing your stitches, Annette. But now I'd better get going."

.....

Half an hour later, with Myf changed into casual clothes, we occupied the front seats of the Mini Cooper S, and I was adjusting the little car's rear view mirrors and looking over the primitive-by-modern-standards dash. It featured an instrument cluster mounted centrally, rather than directly in front of the driver, with a speedometer flanked on either side by a temperature gauge and an oil-pressure gauge. I appreciated this last item; most cars only had an idiot light for the oil and quite often, when that came on, the damage was already done. I tested the hand brake and ensured the gearbox was in neutral, then started the car. After a few nervous moments, the engine started and I let it idle while listening carefully.

After a few minutes of idling, Myf turned to me and asked why we weren't moving yet.

"It's an old car, Myf," I answered. "You have to let it warm up at low revs, to avoid engine damage. Modern cars, with fuel injection and synthetic oil? Not so much. But this grand old girl demands a little more respect. Plus, the oil in her is pretty much used up, so I'm going to be careful."

"You're talking like you love this car," Myf said.

"I really am falling for her, I think. I want to make her as good as new, if Jan will let me."

"Well, she's letting you drive it, so that's a good start."

"True. So Myf, do you know where this auto parts shop is?"

"Um, not really, but Ravensthorp isn't that big. I'm sure it'll be on the high street somewhere."

I nodded and tested the clutch, then moved the stick into first and eased off. To my slight embarrassment, the car hopped forward a bit and stalled. "It's okay, it's okay," I assured Myf. "I just have to get used to the clutch." I tried again and this time moved off smoothly.

The shop I was looking for wasn't that hard to find. I found a parking space and was soon in conversation with the proprietor, a fiftyish man with a passion for cars that eclipsed my own. He knew when Jan had bought Coop and was a little annoyed that she'd taken as long as she had to do something about fixing the car up. I knew then and there I'd found a valuable ally in getting Coop up to speed.

"So, Mister - uhm..."

"James. Call me Harry, young lady," he smiled.

"Harry, I'm Annette, and this is Myf. I've got a list of the things I need here, and I've brought the service manual with the specs." I handed him the manual and as he studied it, I studied his hands. Grease under his nails spoke of someone who didn't just talk cars but loved working on them as well.

"Righto. I'll just have a rummage around in the back for some of these things. Shan't be long."

A few minutes later, Harry returned with pretty much everything on my list. "Of course, none of these are genuine parts," he said, "but as you'd appreciate, they just aren't made any more. But the oil filter is the right size, the spark plugs will do the job, and the fan belt should fit."

I paid him and asked where I could go to give Coop a thorough professional service. He recommended a place in Woking and jotted down the address and phone number for me.

As I packed the parts into the Mini's small trunk, I asked Myf "What d'you want to do now?"

"I thought you'd want to go right home and fix up the car, Netty. Why? What do you want to do?"

"Well, I was just thinking we could drop in on my flat and move some more of my clothes and things out of there. It'd give me a chance to talk to you in private as well, about... well, about things. That is, unless there's something you'd like to do? An errand you need to run, or someone you'd like to see?"

"Your place, huh?" I swear, Myf batted her eyelashes at me. "Gonna drag me over there and overpower me and have your way with me? I know your sort."

"Yeah, right," I chuckled, matching her sly grin. "As if. I'd probably get skinned alive as soon as Mistress heard about it. No, above board, Guide's honour."

"You were a Girl Guide?" Myf looked me up and down, no doubt picturing me in the uniform. "Hmm, maybe you could teach me some of your knots."

"Oh, who's seducing whom now?"

We were still giggling like schoolgirls when I started the car.

.....

I felt my shoulders sag as I unlocked the door to my bedsitter. My feelings about it were bleak. This tiny flat was where I had lived, but it was never home. It was a way station for a life that had been floating in stasis, where I had been waiting for - something. Anything.

Time wasted, not lived.

"Netty, are you all right? You just stopped still. Is anything wrong?"

I turned to face Myf, and forced a smile. "I'm okay. Just thinking."

I opened the door. The air seemed stuffy, lacking enough oxygen. "All right, I'm going to get my clothes. Myf, could you look to see if any of my toiletries are worth bringing back?"

A few minutes later, I was holding a bundle of clothes, not moving, my thoughts racing. Myf noticed. "Netty, something really is wrong, isn't it? What is it? You're trembling."

"Myf, I - "

"Netty?"

"I'm scared, Myf. I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff. I'm worried about you, I'm worried about me - "

"Worried? About me? Why, Netty? I'm fine."

"It's all gone so fast, Myf. What if... what if Jan decides she doesn't want me around? What if she does, and I get between the two of you? What if... you start to resent me?"

Myf shook her head. "Netty, I can't believe you sometimes! Please, stop worrying. I don't resent you, and Mistress wants you around, and think about now, not tomorrow. Worrying about tomorrow will do your head in. Now cheer up. I don't want to go all 'Lady Myfanwy' on you, mostly 'cos I'm crap at it without Mistress, but I will if I have to!"

I felt a one-sided smile pull at my cheek as I dropped my things and pulled Myf in for a hug. "Nonsense, you're a great Lady Myfanwy. You transform nearly as smooth as Jan... as Mistress."

"Yeah, I polish up pretty good for a chav, don't I?", she answered, resting her pretty head on my chest.

"You're no chav, sweetie, and I say that as a card-carrying bogan," I laughed.

"What's a bogan?"

"Kind of an Australian chav, maybe a bit more rural. We wear our hair in mullets, drive around in utes and roll our ciggie packs up in the sleeve of our checked flannelette shirts."

"Oh my gosh, I'd love to see a photo of you looking like that!"

"Ah, I think Mistress would disapprove of the mullet, but it's nice to see you have a new fetish."

Myf's giggle was accompanied by a delightful blush, so I was doubly pleased. So much so, that her next words were disarming.

"Get your clothes off."

I blinked. "Myf? What -?"

"I found this unused razor in your vanity. I thought it might be a good opportunity to get you shaved for Mistress. What do you think?"

Jan had told me she wanted my armpit and pubic hair gone, so I had to agree; and before long I was naked, feeling a bit strange. Myf had seen me naked before. Hell, she and I had been intimate, but still, this felt different.

"Do you remember how to present, Netty? Can you do it now for me? That's it." As Myf requested, I stood with feet apart and hands on my head while Myf got a bowl filled with hot water. She took a moment to look me over, making me more than a bit apprehensive. But she was looking at my stitches, and opined that they could definitely come out today, once Mistress got home. "I don't know how I feel about this, Netty," she said as she traced her finger along the healed wound on my abdomen. "I'm sorry you got hurt like this, but if you hadn't, we might never have met."

"Yeah, something good definitely came from it," I agreed. "Hey wait a minute, what're you doing?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Myf answered me anyway. "I'm taking my own clothes off, silly, what's it look like?"

"Yeah, I can see that, but why?"

"I don't want to get soap suds or loose hair on my clothes, of course."

"Oh yeah, a likely story," I chirped. "Are we even allowed to do funny business without Mistress present?"

"Hmph, don't know what you're talking about, Netty. This is purely for grooming purposes."

Myf warmed up by shaving my already recently shaved legs. I had to admit, having someone else do this for me was kind of relaxing. She then soaped up my armpits and removed the traces of hair that were in residence. "Okay, Netty," she declared, "you can let your arms drop now. Try and stand still for this last part, I'd hate to nick you."

This was an entirely new experience for me. I'd never shaved my pubes before, never even thought of doing it, but I'd been curious ever since I'd seen Myf's smooth mound. Myf worked slowly and with diligence; I was reminded of an archaeologist carefully brushing dust off an exhibit. Not a flattering comparison, I know!

"Okay, Netty, nearly finished. I want you to bend over for me and grab your legs."

"Myf! You haven't even bought me dinner yet!" I laughed, but quickly got myself into the "come and get it, big boy" pose.

As Myf chased down stray hairs, she remarked, "Every one of these I see is a bit different. Yours would look great with piercings here... and here." As she spoke, she touched my outer labia, making me shudder. "Okay, just about done. Hold still just a little longer."

I stayed as still as I could, waiting for her to finish, trying to beat down my growing arousal. That's when I felt her tongue lapping around my newly denuded skin.

"M-myf... what are you doing?" Okay, not all questions are useful or even necessary. I knew damn well what she was doing.

"I'm just making sure it's a smooth shave! The tongue's much more sensitive for that."

"Myf, s-top, please... oh, my god... isn't this against the rules... ohhhh..."

I felt a finger penetrate me. "Aow, Myf! I know there's no hair in there!" I was protesting, but also shuddering with delight.

"I can stop if you want," she teased, and paused in her pleasurable assault. "Hmmm?"

"Nnnnooo, please... don't stop," I breathed.

"Then get on your bed, darling. We might as well give it a last hurrah."

I sat on my little bed. Myf instructed me to close my eyes. "No peeking, now," she admonished. It was only a moment before I felt something being pulled down over my head, and I squealed in shock and surprise. It was a pillowcase; unfortunately, a used one, but at least it had been used by me. Only the least of the light filtered through to my eyes; I was effectively blind. Instinctively, my hands moved up to remove the pillowcase, but my wrists were seized by Myf's deceptively strong hands.

"No, Netty darling. Lie back, hands behind your head, and relax."

"Yes... Milady?"

"It's really hot when you say that, Netty. Makes me want to do all sorts of things to you."

As I lay back, passive, I reflected briefly that both Myf and Jan enjoyed restricting their partners' sight. Or perhaps it was that they knew that it intensified the other senses, and that they were blinding me for my sake as much or more than theirs. Ironic that Jan, who restored sight, would enjoy removing it from her partners. Or maybe it made perfect sense...

Then my logical thinking process went on a break, as soon as I felt Myf's fingers pulling on my outer labia. "Ohhh yes," she said, "I'm gonna ask Mistress if we can put rings in these sex flaps of yours..."

"Uhhh, s-steady on Myf... ohhh..."

"And maybe a little one... here," she said, and I felt her tongue circling my clitoral hood. "I like the idea of you being horny 24/7, on your hands and knees begging your owners for relief..."

I knew it was a fantasy, but my lust was rising. "Oh god, Myf, please don't stop... it feels... amazing..."

Her fingers delved inside me, and one was brushing against the puckered entrance to my rectum, making me shudder and moan. "Hmmm, dunno," she teased, "I'm not really hearing any sincere begging..."

Her warm breath was tickling my clit, but it wasn't enough, and she knew it. I wanted to take my hands from behind my head, reach out, and grind her face onto my hungry kitty; but I forced myself to be still.

Myf sensed my hesitation. "Your bald puss is so pretty, but if you're going to be stubborn..."

The growl rose from my diaphragm, and I knew I was going to beg. Might as well make it creative.

"Oh, my lovely Lady Myfanwy, my body is your plaything, your amusement park, to tease or please or torment as you wish. I'm begging you, please, please, use your tongue, your fingers on my slutty sex hole - "

Myf cut me off. "And what will I get in return for bothering with your used up, worn out slut-slit?"

"I-I... I'll..." I was plummeting down the rabbit-hole of submission, and though I knew this was mostly fantasy and any "debt" I incurred might never be called in, it was still thrilling.

"I'm getting bored, Netty. Maybe I'll just let you go cold."

"Milady, no, please!" My voice revealed my fear and frustration - I didn't know what to offer her. My mind raced in near-panic until it chanced on a remark I'd made the previous night. Driven to desperation, I offered my gambit. "I - I'll give up smoking for you! I know you hate it, it's my gift to you..."

I wasn't prepared for what Myf said next. Nothing at all, save perhaps a strangled gasp. Light returned to my eyes as she gently removed the pillowcase and cupped my face. "Netty, do you mean that? You're not just joking with me, are you?" Her voice was soft now, and breaking; and her eyes were shining. "You'd actually do that, for me?"

I nodded. Although the idea came out as a plea, I knew that my subconscious had been tossing it around all day. "I want to, Myf. I never had a good reason to quit before." I looked deeply into her beautiful brown eyes and swallowed hard. "I do now. I know you - "

I wasn't able to finish. Myf leapt on to me and kissed me so hard, spots danced before my eyes. Then she moved her head down to suck and tongue my nipple, even while driving two fingers deep inside my cunt. I gasped; I moaned; I shuddered, even as I wrapped my arms around my lover.

Myf raised her head and I could see tears sparkling in her eyes. All she could manage to say was "Oh, Netty." Then she brought her lips back to mine, again and again.

I couldn't withstand this treatment for long. Hell, a rock couldn't have held out under this onslaught. Inevitably, my body yielded to a noisy orgasm, with Myf's mouth on mine muffling my cries.

Moments afterward, once I'd caught some of my breath, I chuckled and remarked on how ironic it was that my last day in this flat was the only time I'd made love in it.

"Only time? Can't have that," Myf said, grinding her wet pussy against mine.

.....

"As nice as this is," I said, cuddling Myf close, "I s'pose we should get going."

Myf started dressing. "Shall we get some lunch before we go home? I'm a bit peckish."

"I don't really have anything here," I replied, somewhat embarrassed. "Not that's still edible, anyway. I think the milk's turned, and - "

"Well, that's all right," Myf responded brightly. "We could go get fish and chips at Rocky's, or the pub does a nice ploughman's lunch, or there's - "

I cut her off. "Myf, I hate to say this, but I've no money. I'm pretty much flat broke. I've got to find myself some kind of job, and soon, but right now, I can't afford to get anything, really."

Myf shook her head. "Netty, again and again, you worry too much about nothings! So you've got no money, so what? Is it so shameful to let someone else treat you to lunch? Would you starve yourself before you let yourself bend just a little bit? Or are you too good to spend my money?"

"I... Myf, I'm sorry... I just hate being a deadbeat."

Myf sighed. "We could go to the soup kitchen on Taylor Street. Rani said she'd give me the recipe for her vegetable biryani next time I saw her..."

I'd eaten at that same soup kitchen not a week ago. A wave of shame fell over me. Myf must have noted my expression because she said, "Better idea. Let's go have lunch with my Mum."

.....

With my clothes and other things in the back of Coop we soon arrived at a small, neat cottage with a lovely garden, only a couple of streets away from my bedsitter. As we got out of the Mini, Myf let me know that her mother had raised her alone without going into any other details. "She worked hard, two jobs at a time sometimes, so I wouldn't miss out on anything. So now I make sure she wants for nothing. I see her as often as I can." She said this quietly, but firmly, and I wondered what she wasn't telling me. When I walked over a shallow ramp, set in lieu of a few steps, I began to suspect something, which was only confirmed when the door opened in response to Myf's knock.

The woman who opened the door and looked up at us was so much like an older version of Myf, it was uncanny. She had the same hair, the same bearing, and even the same, genuine smile. Her eyes, though, looked tired. No, more than tired, weary.

And she was sitting in a wheelchair.

Not that any of that gave her even a moment's pause. On seeing her daughter, she stretched out her arms with a delighted cry. "Myffie, luv! Give us a cuddle!"

Of course, Myf obliged, embracing and kissing her mother, making me feel out of place and even a little homesick. I wasn't allowed to wallow in that feeling for long, however.

"And who's your lovely friend, dear? Come on, introduce us."

"Give us a chance, Mum! This is Dame Janet's house guest, Annette. She comes all the way from Australia. Netty, this is my Mum, Angela.

"Pleased to meet you, Ma'am," I said, taking her hands in my own.

"I'll make you a deal, luv," she replied. "If I can call you Netty, you can call me Ange. Okay?"

"It's a deal, Ange."

With the ice broken, we spent the nest hour making and eating lunch, with Ange demonstrating her ability to stand for short periods while making sandwiches, then following that up with a pot of strong tea and biscuits. Ange was an absolute delight, and so easy to talk to, it was like I'd known her for years. She knew about Myf's relationship with Jan, and even seemed to know of my involvement; or suspected it, anyway. Any probes she directed my way were both subtle and gentle, but I knew she was perceptive, and beneath the surface, a protective mother.

"So will you be staying in Ravensthorp for long, Netty?"

"Honestly, that depends. I want to, this place is more like home for me than home is, but - "

"You know you can stay as long as you want, Netty," Myf interjected.

"And I appreciate that, but I've got to contribute somehow. Find myself a job, or something. I can't be a bludger all my life."

"A what?" Myf asked. Ange roared with laughter.

"I haven't heard that word in years, Netty luv!"

"I haven't heard it at all. Can you translate, please?"

I put down my cup. "Originally, a 'bludger' was a man who lived off the earnings of prostitutes. In more recent years, it just means a loafer, or a moocher."

"Aw, Netty, it's only been a few days."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right, Myf. Anyway, I'll wash up the dishes."

Ange said she'd do it; I insisted, and Myf insisted on helping.

"So what happened to your father?" I asked Myf as we worked. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Never met him," she replied in a flat tone.

"Oh, Myf, I'm sorry. That was rude of me," I hastily said, but she waved it away. "I try not to think about it too much, but Mum's the best, isn't she?"

"Hell, yeah," I answered. "I kind of wish she was my Mum."

Soon, we were finished cleaning up and it was time to go. I left Ange my phone number, with a promise to come by often. We left after each getting a hug and a kiss on the cheek. As I started the car, Myf observed, "You're smiling."

"Yeah, I am - I'm happy. Your Mum is good for the soul."

As we drove off, Myf asked me if we could make one more stop before returning home. "I really would like to stop at the soup kitchen before it closes, and get that recipe. Would that be okay?"

I was in no mood to refuse Myf anything, so we headed toward Taylor Street. On the way, my curiosity overcame caution. "I know I've already risked offending you once today," I said, "so feel free to tell me where to go, but... what happened to your Mum?"

Myf sighed. "It's got a really long name I don't remember, but it's a type of muscular dis... oh, what's the word?"

"Dystrophy?"

"That's it. It's gradual. When I was around thirteen, Mum's legs started getting tired. After a year or so, she started wearing braces on her legs - she still does, that's why she likes wearing long skirts. She got the wheelchair about a year ago."

"Is it..." I hesitated. "Is it going to get worse?"

"Yeah." Myf bowed her head and closed her eyes. Then, after a moment, she raised her head. "Medication's slowing it down. Every day's a gift, you know? That's how I have to look at it."

"Every day's a gift..." I muttered. Suddenly my crappy little problems seemed less important.

.....

The Fruitful Harvest. It was an odd name for a place dedicated to feeding the hungry, but most people, including me when I ate there, just called it the "soup kitchen." Myf led me inside and we were met by an older woman wearing an apron, probably a volunteer worker. "Oh, hello, dears," she said. "The lunch service is nearly over, but I should still be able to get you something."

Myf slipped a fiver into the donations box and replied, "We're just here to see Rani, if she's here. Could you ask her? Tell her Myf is here to get the recipe we talked about. Thank you."

The lady looked perplexed. "Rani?"

"Oh! Sorry," Myf giggled, "I mean Mrs. Smeaton."

The volunteer nodded and left us. I was feeling as perplexed as she looked. Why would she not recognise the first name of a co-worker?

I was about to ask Myf about it when the subject of my speculation came into view. She was a statuesque, beautiful woman whose black hair was flecked with the odd bit of grey and whose dark eyes twinkled with amusement upon spotting Myf and me. A red bindi proclaimed her Indian heritage. Her skin was dark and flawless. Surely this was Rani. And somehow, she was familiar to me. From where?

To my surprise, upon sighting the woman, Myf executed a neat little curtsey. My mind worked fast and came to a sudden discovery.

"'Rani' isn't your name," I muttered. "It's a title!" And then I remembered where I'd seen her. It was at the Gehenna Club. I was pretty drunk at the time, but I remembered her, dressed in dominant fetish gear and leading around a naked man. Of course! Dominant women assumed titles sometimes, and 'Rani' was the feminine of 'Rajah'.

I was wearing jeans rather than a skirt, so a curtsey was out of the question, but I followed Myf's lead with a bow.

"Ah, very good," she said, "you're quite sharp when you're sober. I trust you're feeling better than when I last saw you. And how are you, dear Myfwany?"

"I'm fine, thank you, Rani," she answered.

The 'Rani' extended her hand. "My name's Adhira - Adhira Smeaton. Lovely to properly meet you."

I gingerly took her fingers between mine. "I'm Annette Hart, and I'm happy to meet you, but I wonder if I could ask you a small question?

Amusement fought with curiosity in Adhira's face, and after a moment, curiosity won out. "You may ask, and perhaps I'll even answer."

I took a breath. "Is there something in the water in Ravensthorp, that produces utterly drop-dead gorgeous dominant women?"

For a moment, I thought I'd screwed up badly, but then Adhira laughed the same kind of full, genuine laugh I'd heard from Mistress Jan. "Ha ha hah! That's an original means of flattery, at least!"

As her laughter subsided, Adhira changed her stance slightly and began to look at me differently. Her hand reached out to touch my face, and I couldn't help but shiver a little. "My, my. Red hair, freckles... you're even paler than young Myfanwy. Has Dame Janet claimed you as yet?

My breath caught in my throat. "I, uh, yes..."

Her hand moved down to caress my throat, then to squeeze, so gently that even Myf couldn't notice. "No collar?"

"Collar? I, um, no, Mistress called it 'provisional'."

"What a shame." Her dark eyes sparkled. "I'd have enjoyed breaking you... in."

She was waiting on me to reply, but I didn't know what to say. Finally I squeaked out a "Yes, Rani."

Abruptly, she turned her attention away from me and to Myf. "I'll get that recipe for you, my dear, won't be a moment."

As Rani turned away and re-entered her office, Myf touched my hand. "Sorry, Netty. I should have let you know about Rani."

"Ya think?" I replied, my voice a little shaky. "I thought she was gonna swallow me whole at one point. D'you think that was real, what she was saying?"

"Oh yeah, Rani's kinks include raceplay," Myf said. "She enjoys dominating white women, and men. Harmless, though. Any racial stuff's confined to play only."

"You seem to know a lot about her. Has she... with you?"

"Yep. She's really fun. Not Mistress, but still good."

Back in the car, with Myf tucking the recipe into her bag, I felt I had to say something to stall for time and let myself calm down before I started driving.

"So what's the connection between Rani and Mistress Jan?" I asked.

"Connection?" Myf's brows wrinkled in thought. "They're not lovers, if that's what you mean. Although they might have shared a sub once or twice." A slight reddening in her cheeks told me she was one of the shared properties, at least once. I didn't let on that I knew. "Rani's married with two adult sons. Her husband's an architect, and also her favourite sub."

"Is there a professional connection, then? Rani seems to know a fair bit about Mistress."

"You could say that. Rani started the Fruitful Harvest several years ago as a passion project. Mistress saw the value in it and remains the major sponsor."

"So no one in Ravensthorp has to go hungry because of Mistress?"

"That's only one example of Mistress' generosity. The pub we went to last night? Mistress paid for it to be refurbished. Even the local Sunday league football club only exists because of her."

I nodded in understanding. No wonder she was so beloved by the community. It seemed she was the glue keeping it together.

"Thanks, Myf." I started the car. "Let's go home."

.....

I was unscrewing the oil drain plug from the Mini when Jan's Bentley pulled into the garage. Satisfied that the sludgy black oil was draining into the catch tray, I hurriedly stood up and executed a short bow as my Mistress emerged from the car. Of course, the effect was muted somewhat by the greasy, oversized coveralls I was wearing, but the thought was there.

"How was your day, Mistress?" I asked, maintaining the bow.

"Well enough," she said, smiling at the odd apparition before her, "but I'm hungry. Finish up there, change out of those... things, and come to supper."

"Yes, Mistress."

.....

Jan wiped her lips with a napkin and turned to Myf, who was sitting to her right. "Superb, as always, dear Myf. Can you tidy up without Annette's help? I need to take her stitches out."

Myf nodded and smiled. "Come along then, Annette," Jan said, rising and bidding me to follow.

We entered Jan's study, where she told me to strip and present. I obeyed swiftly, feeling oddly cool around my denuded pubic mound - a change which Jan noticed at once. "Very good," she said, running her finger along my slit like a drill sergeant looking for dust on a windowsill; uncaring of what it did to me. "Armpits, too, I see. Myf helped with this, yes?"

"Yes, Mistress," I said, remaining in position.

Then, Jan held my chin between thumb and forefinger and held my gaze, and I felt how a mouse must feel with a cobra. "Tell me, Annette. Was that all the two of you did?"

I couldn't move. Couldn't escape the scrutiny. And couldn't lie.

"... No, Mistress."

"Well?"

"Myf and I... made love."

"Oh my, Annette. I expected a meatier description from my foul-mouthed colonial. You 'made love' like a pair of caffeinated bunnies, I expect. Now tell me, who initiated this wholly unauthorised liaison?

I couldn't move. Couldn't escape the scrutiny. And couldn't lie. But I couldn't throw Myf under the bus, either. What I could do was keep my mouth shut. And of course, Jan saw right through it.

"It was Myf, then. You'd admit it, if it were you."

"Mistress, I want to share any punishment you decide."

"As you should, Annette. It takes two to tango, after all. But this time - this time only - there'll be no punishment. I'm actually quite impressed with how you balanced honesty with loyalty. Now then, let's look at those stitches."

Jan examined my body, front and back, and confirmed that all the stitches could come out, and then proceeded to remove each one swiftly and without causing any pain.

"There shouldn't be any visible scarring on your back, Annette; that is, unless you get a deep tan. Scar tissue doesn't tan, as a rule. But given your pale skin and freckles, I wouldn't recommend tanning anyway."

She traced the diagonal scar on my abdomen and sighed. "This one's almost certain to stay visible, though. I can refer you to a good cosmetic surgeon who can do something with it, if you want."

I lowered my gaze and shook my head. "No. Scars are a living reminder, to not repeat your mistakes."

Jan gently tipped my head up to meet her gaze again, but this time there was compassion in her eyes. "They also mean something else - that you survived."

She wrapped her arms around me and kissed my forehead, and I could feel the tears welling up. "Now, get dressed", she ordered, "and meet me in the bar. I have something important to discuss with you, and I think it calls for a drink."

Jan left, allowing me to both dress and collect myself. After only a few minutes, I was ready to follow her to the bar. I opened the door, and Jan was there, handing me a gin and tonic and motioning for me to sit down.

I sat, and sipped; Jan did the same with her glass of whiskey.

"I'll get straight to the point," she said. "I want you to work for me."