Submissive in Surrey Ch. 08

Submissive in Surrey

Chapter 8

Offer and Acceptance

"I want you to work for me."

The words hung in the air. I became aware of every tiny sensation I would normally perceive only dimly. The cold, perspiring glass I was holding; the slight fragrance of the gin; the bitterness of the tonic water clinging to my tongue; the sound of the evening rain, pattering on the window; and even my own breathing. The background had become foreground.

The silence drew out, stretched between Jan and me. Her expression, her patient silence was unnerving. I heard a clock tick, too slowly, in the distance.

Too slowly? No. My mind was racing. The world wasn't going too slow, I was going too fast. Still, I had to say something. I was about to ask her if she was sure, but I stopped myself. Jan was nothing if not sure of herself. I envied that. I finally opted for something safe.

"What do you want me to do? And, why me?"

Jan took a sip of her drink before answering. "I'll tackle the last question first. Why you, indeed? After all, we've known each other less than a week. And yet, in that time..."

She paused for a moment. The hint of a grimace appeared on her features. "As you've seen, I'm far from a paragon. I have some pretty severe issues with trust. You took a punishment from me because of that, a punishment I regret inflicting."

"Water under the bridge," I answered with a wave. I wanted to say more, but decided to let Jan talk.

"I told you before that two of my servants conspired to embezzle from me. That prompted me to sack them, and all my other staff. This wasn't long after my father died, and it left me alone in this big house, trying to run it as well as establishing my practice, and other things. I found I wasn't even managing to feed myself properly. That's when I hired Myf to be my chef and housekeeper. That was a big leap of faith in the beginning, but, well, you know what happened."

"You fell hard for her. And she, for you. I've got eyes," I replied.

"Yes. But that didn't change anything. I still needed my chef, and Myf still needed the work, so we kept our professional relationship in parallel to our personal one."

"It can't be as easy as that," I said, and sipped my drink. "Not all the time."

"It isn't. But we're getting away from the point. Myf opened the door a little and showed me that there were people out there who were worthy of trust. I knew I needed someone else in my employ, but I could see no other good candidates, but then you, almost literally, fell into my lap. At first I thought little of you. You were hurt, so I undertook to heal you and compensate you for your injuries, but then something unusual happened. You refused to take any money from me, although you sorely needed it. I put that down to self-loathing and stubbornness, until I threatened to punish Myf in your stead, and you wouldn't have it. You insisted on taking the punishment yourself, and then I realised it."

"Realised what, exactly?" I wondered.

"That what you had, was integrity."

I said nothing at first. Before the great failure that woke up my Ugly Voice, I wasn't wonderful at receiving compliments; and these days, I was even worse; but I had to respond to that somehow. "All right," I started, "that's the why, I guess. So what do you want me to do?" I imagined myself in Myf's French maid outfit. "I'm terrible at walking in heels, by the way."

"Not at all what I had in mind for you," Jan replied, "but before I go into specifics, I'll say this. I have my fingers in a large number of pies, so to speak. I have many properties and investments in Surrey and out. I'm involved in charities both close to home and nation-wide. I was born with the extraordinary good fortune to never have to worry about money, thanks to the acumen and industriousness of my ancestors. But in one way, I'm as poor as a church mouse."

"I can't see how, Jan," I said. "You're wealthy, influential, talented, beloved of the community and the single most beautiful woman I've ever met, so how -?"

"Time, Annette. Time. The great equaliser. The one thing I don't have enough of. The one thing I can't make, buy or steal. I've been steadily running myself into the ground, trying to be all things to all people at once, when I want to save my precious time for the things that matter the most."

I nodded. "Your medical practice. And Myf."

"Essentially, yes." Jan fixed her gaze on me as she answered, and its intensity made me swallow hard before I answered.

"But what can I do to help you? I don't have any skills..."

"I'd argue that point," Jan said, "but let's start with what you can do for me right now. I've two things in mind, for which you've shown capability already. I want you to be my chauffeur, first of all. You've shown you can drive in a calm and capable manner, and the opportunity to simply relax in the passenger seat, stress-free, while someone else drives will make me fresher for surgery. And if you drive, I should be able to perform procedures in London without having to stay in a hotel overnight - meaning I'll be able to spend more time at home with Myf. And, with you."

"That... that makes sense, I suppose. And the other thing?

"Haven't you guessed? I want you to finish what you've already started and completely restore the Mini. I'll provide whatever resources you need to do it, of course." As she said that, Jan slid a plastic rectangle across the table to me. "Your credit card. For expenses."

As I picked up the card and stared at it, Jan continued. "After all, my emissary should have her own distinctive mode of transport."

I gasped audibly at the implications behind Jan's words. "But... what you're describing isn't much more than a taxi driver, not an 'emissary'."

Jan fixed her gaze on me again, this time with a small, lopsided smile. "Give it time."

"So... there's more to the job?"

"There is, or will be. It depends on you. Over time, you'll take on further responsibilities as your confidence and capabilities grow. For example, you could take over the running of the household accounts, do payroll for the contract cleaners and gardeners I employ - as well as for yourself and Myf. Ultimately, you could stand in for me at the board meetings of the major charities I support, or be my representative in other ways. Oh, and the Gehenna Club's manager wants to retire. I think you'd be tailor-made for the job, and it's only part-time..."

The Ugly Voice was roaring in my ears, telling me this was a joke, that it was all kinds of wrong; that no one would ever trust me with such responsibility. "I... I don't know. That seems like a lot," I mumbled, cautious about even speaking clearly. "I don't know how to do any of those things."

"You don't yet," Jan countered. "But you have a quick mind. A formidable one. And if we can just get under that shell of self-doubt, I've seen that wellspring of courage you have. If you let it, it will fuel your ambitions."

Jan must have seen the doubt working on my face. She went on. "But that's in the future. As I said, you'll start with things I know you can do. Anyway, you're probably thinking now about what's in it for you. I will, of course, pay you a salary I'm sure you'll find generous, in addition to room, board and expenses. I know you feel bad about owing your family, so you'll be able to send money home to extinguish that debt over time. But just as important as any of that - you'll feel better about yourself. You'll have direction and purpose."

I felt myself nodding. Jan smiled slightly. "There are conditions, however."

"Conditions?" My inbuilt Aussie bullshit-sense was giving me a slight tingle. "Some kind of sex thing?"

Jan laughed. "Hardly! There's a couple of things. First of all, I don't want you to give up on the law as a profession, so..."

"I can't, Jan," I interrupted. "I was made to show cause why I should still be able to be a student-at-law. I wasn't able to show cause. That means I can't study law at any Australian university for at least another two years. I'm sure that would follow me here."

"I thought that would be the case, so I found you a short business course that was at least law-adjacent. It's mostly things like bookkeeping, but there is a class on contract law as part of the course. It's at the same local college where Myf studies, and you should find it interesting enough to hold your attention. Completing that will work in your favour when you start studying law again."

"When? Not if?" I asked.

"When. Not if. I'd bet the estate on it."

Paid work. Being useful. Staying here, and being able to study as well? "I've got to admit, you make it sound tempting, Jan. So what's the other condition?"

Jan's eyes became - softer, kinder, somehow. "I'm not going to beat around the bush. You need help, Annette, help I'm not qualified to provide myself. I want you to see a colleague of mine. A psychiatrist. Someone who can help you with your issues."

And there it is, the Ugly Voice said. She thinks you've lost it. Just like I do.

I tried to breathe properly but found myself gulping in air. "I, I know, there's something - wrong with - me... but... I don't know how - to fix it..."

Jan swept me into her arms and held me. "It's all right, Annette, no one thinks badly of you. There's no shame in it."

"I, I h-hate not knowing... not having the answer... why don't I know?"

I let Jan hold me while I tried not to hyperventilate and eventually succeeded in getting my breathing under control. "I'm not really qualified to have an opinion," she said, "but I know this. You are perfectly sane. I think you have an anxiety disorder, and I think Carol can help you. You don't have to face it alone."

I felt a shuddering sob course through me. I couldn't stop it from colouring my voice. "Why are y-you being so g-good to me?"

Jan looked me in the eyes, brushed away a tear with a gentle swipe of her thumb and favoured me with a beatific smile.

"Because you're worth it."

I leaned into the hug and just luxuriated for a moment or two, feeling warm, safe and cared for. Then a black thought crossed my mind and I pulled away enough to look at Jan. "I don't want to be drugged so much that I'm not me any more. Can you promise me that your head doctor won't do that?"

Jan wore a smile that turned a little sad. "Carol won't do that. She doesn't like to medicate her patients, if there's any way to avoid it."

I wasn't convinced. "How do you know that?"

"I have it on the best authority," Jan replied. "Me. Carol helped me to process the grief I felt when Father died."

My eyes widened and I put my hand over my mouth like a child caught in a lie. "I- I'm sorry, Jan."

"It's fine," she replied, and walked to the bar. "Have the other half?"

"Have the other half of what?" I asked, puzzled.

"Oh, sorry. That's Navy cant for 'Would you like another drink?'"

"Ah, yes, please. You were in the Navy as well?" I said, disbelief affecting my voice.

"I wasn't, but Father was, and his father. Something of a tradition. There was a Baronet Harrington serving aboard HMS Rodney when the Navy caught the Bismarck."

I took the fresh, cold drink from Jan. As she busied herself with cigarette and holder, I ventured that she and her father must have been close.

"Very close," she answered. "I sometimes think that everything I am, I owe to him."

"I could say the same thing," I replied without a trace of irony in my voice. As she placed the holder between her lips, I retrieved my lighter and held it out to her without thinking. "I like when you do that," she said, "but I might have to get you a proper lighter."

After a long, luxurious drag, she noticed what I was doing, or rather, not doing. "Have you run out of cigarettes, Annette?"

"No. I've quit. Hopefully for good, this time."

"Well, good for you! I hope I'm not bothering you, then."

I grinned and said, "Nothing you could do would bother me."

"Hah! That's an awfully big claim. Perhaps I'll test that, when we're being less 'professional' and more 'personal'. Hmmm..."

"What are you thinking about, Jan?"

"Just about whether I can prescribe anything to assist you. Nicotine withdrawal is no joke. How many cigarettes did you smoke a day, on average?"

"About five, usually. More if I was out raging. Umm, partying, I mean."

"That's hardly even a habit. Five Silk Cuts at half a milligram of nicotine per... A nicotine patch would do more harm than good. Perhaps an oral spray could work for you, but try going cold turkey first, and tell me if it becomes difficult." Jan didn't give me a chance to respond before saying, "Now, what do you think about the job? Want to take it on?"

I gulped at my drink, to gain a moment before answering. "Can I ask you something... that might offend you? I hope it doesn't, but, um..."

"Go ahead, Annette. I don't want you to give me an uninformed answer."

"Okay, then," I said, "Is staying here dependent on taking the job?"

Jan ashed her cigarette before her response. "Not in the way you're implying. You and I are going to labour mightily to keep our personal relationship discrete from our professional one, and I know we're not going to completely succeed - being only human, after all. However, I think our personal relationship will fail if you don't do some kind of work. Not because of me, because of you. What I mean by that..."

I nodded in understanding. "Yes, you're right. I've got to do something with myself or I'll feel completely worthless. One more question, if I may. What if I take on too much and can't do it all?"

"Then we'll talk about it and come to a course of action between us. I propose that every Sunday evening you and I sit down here with a drink and review the week. That way, we can plan the following week and identify any problems before they get troublesome. How does that sound to you?"

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment before opening them again. "I can't think of any reason not to accept your offer, Jan. Or Mistress. I'd like to take the job," I said, extending my hand.

"Excellent. You'll start tomorrow," Jan replied. Her handshake was firm but no more than firm. It was the handshake of someone with nothing to prove. "Now finish your drink and we'll proceed with your signing-on bonus."

"Signing-on bonus?" I frowned slightly. "At the risk of repeating myself, is this going to be a sex thing?"

Jan chuckled. "Sort of. I think Myf's due a treat, and you're going to help me give it to her."

...

Based on my limited experience so far, I'd theorised that as much theatre as fetishism went into Mistress Janet's wardrobe choices, but on this occasion I'd learn that sometimes this had to be tempered by practicality. So it was that Mistress emerged from her boudoir wearing only a black leather corset that emphasised her waist and covered her breasts, but ended just below her navel, leaving her 'feminine charms' on display. I'd not had the opportunity to ogle Mistress's bare legs before this and I drank in the opportunity. They were as shapely and perfect as the rest of her - damn it. I looked down at my own long, skinny, freckled nakedness and felt envy.

I had to wonder though - where were the boots? Or gloves? Or even the makeup she normally wore? Of course, she wasn't going to provide me with the answers. I already had come to know that Mistress liked to keep her subs in the dark for as long as possible, and I was her sub now. Instead of explanations, she gave instructions for me to follow her; and walking in her shadow, I soon found myself at the threshold of the basement dungeon. "Bow your head as you enter," Mistress ordered. "My sub should not see your head higher than mine." I understood; both Mistress and I were bare-footed, and I had maybe an inch of height on her. It'd not have been an issue if she were wearing heels. Which brought up the persistent question: just why wasn't she wearing anything below the waist?

The answer didn't come immediately, but I wasn't to wait long for it. As instructed, I bowed my head down, and as an added touch, put my hands behind my back as though bound. As I entered the dungeon, my lowered gaze easily picked out Myf: naked, lying on her back on the floor, with a sheet of plastic between floor and body. Honestly, I should have figured out then and there what was going to happen, but I didn't. Myf saw me approach, and gasped, but refrained from speaking. Her face seemed to be flushed, from excitement I assumed. Her large breasts spread over her chest, the golden rings in each hardened nipple gleaming in the light. I stopped by her side and waited for any instructions from Mistress. My eyes feasted on her supine body and I felt my own breathing quicken. We were both of us under Mistress's spell. Both subs. Both slaves.

Mistress made her slightly delayed entrance and stood before Myf, facing her while I stood, head bowed, to the side. "Myfanwy, I've been impressed by your continued fine work and exemplary submission while in my service."

"Thank you Mistress," came the breathy voice from beneath me.

"And Annette, here, has agreed to work in my employ, as well as staying on as your slave-sister. This pleases me, so I'll reward you both. Myfanwy, you may masturbate freely. Annette, I give you leave to watch as I give Myfanwy her treat."

"Yes, Mistress," we chorused.

Myf started using her fingers on her sex, spreading her labia, delving inside her vulva, beginning to moan in a delightfully slutty way. I was already aroused and wanted to do the same thing, but I sensed that doing so without permission would drastically change the scene, and not to my liking. Instead I just watched, remaining as still as I could, while Mistress stepped over Myf's form, squatted slightly, and parted her own labia with her fingers.

At once I understood everything. Was Myf really into this? Apparently both of them were going to answer that question at once.

"You know what to do," Mistress said in that commanding tone of hers that already turned my nerves to submissive jelly.

Myf did know what to do. She pleaded. "Oh Mistress, please give me your hot, golden piss. Please paint your slut in gold. Please make me your stinking piss-mop, " she said, while her fingers became a blur, almost savagely masturbating.

"Then take this, you filthy toilet-whore!" With that, a thick stream of piss shot out of Mistress and splattered over Myf's breasts. I was fascinated to see the stream hit her skin and fly away into droplets. Myf moaned and squeezed at her breast while her other hand flailed away. There was no doubt she loved this, and the embarrassment of being watched by me seemed to heighten the experience for her.

Mistress continued to astound me. Just as quickly as she fired her powerful stream at her blonde sub, she cut off the jet, with nary a leaking drop. That spoke eloquently of practice and great kegels - but of course she'd be as in control of her body as of her life. I felt a warm glow of admiration, shot through with just a little envy. Myf whimpered and begged for more. Mistress's laugh had a nasty edge to it.

"Listen to the pathetic, smelly pisspot, Annette! I'm using her as a toilet - the lowest of the low - and she wants more! I don't want to hear her bleating for now, shut her up for me, will you?"

At once I realised I was going to be not just observer, but participant. "Y-yes, Mistress." I looked around for something to gag her with, but saw nothing. "Um. How?" I asked, knowing it was a mistake.

"Dozy whore, use your foot! I thought you were the smart one!"

So I wasn't assistant Mistress, just another slave, and an untrained one to boot. "Yes, Mistress," I replied, chastened, and lowered the sole of my foot over Myf's mouth, carefully, working to keep my balance and not put too much weight on her face. I was immediately rewarded by the sensation of lips and tongue worshipping my sole. Myf's eyes were practically glazed over in submission and rising lust. I shifted a bit and gave Myf my toes which she suckled eagerly.

In the meantime, Mistress shifted her aim to Myf's waist. "Here, toilet bitch. Enjoy," she said, and released another powerful jet. Mistress's urine did have some pungency to its bouquet. Possibly Irish whiskey and Turkish tobacco would do that.

Myf wallowed in the growing yellow pool. That's the only verb that seemed to fit. I was surprised that she would be so affected by such a submissive act, but also, I had to admit, I was curious about how it would feel myself.

Mistress interrupted my reverie. "I think the slut's about to pop." If by "pop" she meant "orgasm," I had to agree. Her breathing was getting faster and more ragged and a flush was growing over her lovely, piss-stained chest.

"Let's give her a finish she'll not soon forget."

"Oh, God, yes, please Mistress!"

"Shut it, toilet, and don't interrupt me. Annette, I've decided to let her taste your nectar as well as mine. Squat over her face and let fly while I blast her cunt."

Any hesitation I might have had was blown away by Myf's sudden pleading. "Oh, yes please, Netty, please! I want it, please! Mistress, can I really taste Netty's pee?"

Mistress Jan's voice softened a little. "Just a taste. You know my rules. Don't shotgun it into her mouth, Annette."

I didn't bother telling Mistress I had no confidence in my aim. I just squatted over Myf and spread my freshly-denuded labia and waited for the command. Myf mewled with delight. "I can see your peehole, Netty. You're so pretty down there..." Which was maybe the oddest compliment I'd had to date!

"Alright, slut. You're free to cum as soon as we spray your pathetic, filthy body. Annette, let... go!"

I released my bladder and let the wet warmth cascade over Myf's pursed lips, closed eyes and short blonde hair, and I felt a sudden wave of power rush over me - a feeling like I felt when I made my first feeble attempt to dominate Myf, but much stronger. For a moment or two, I felt like Mistress must feel, and I wasn't at all sure what I thought about it.

Myf was under so such misgivings! She screamed and howled like a damned soul, her body visibly shaking under what must have been the noisiest orgasm I'd heard from anyone. I couldn't tell whether her orgasm was set off by the pressure of Mistress's powerful flow, or if Myf's fingers were the cause - probably both.

Mistress moved away from the supine, wet form, muttering "Fucking slut." I could see that one of Myf's hands was still on her cunt, while the fingertips of her other hand were introducing the flavour of my own emission to her lips. She shivered in reaction as she gave her verdict. "It's tangy, thank you Netty. Thank you, Mistress."

"Good girl," Mistress said. "Clean yourself up while I prepare Annette for her own treat." I swear, this basement dungeon had everything, including a small cubicle in one corner where Myf could take a decidedly non-golden shower. As she led me away to another part of the basement, Mistress asked if I knew why her rule was tasting, not drinking. I responded that drinking a large amount of urine couldn't be good for one.

"That's right. It's a waste product after all, containing things like urea, salts, uric acid, ammonia... it's generally bacteria-free, but despite some people swearing by the stuff, I feel it's asking too much of the kidneys to process it twice. Myf finds it exquisitely humiliating, so I indulge her taste now and again. Anyway... it's time for your treat. Tonight you stay with Myf and me, in my bed."

I could feel my heart rate double. "I can see the prospect is welcome to you. I'm glad. Now let's prepare you."

"Prepare me?" Mistress?" But my questions fell on deaf ears as Mistress searched for an item and quickly found it.

"Hold still," Mistress commanded, as she tightened a sort of wide leather belt around my waist. I couldn't understand why, until I noticed the cuffs affixed to the sides of the belt - obviously intended for my wrists. Mistress strapped my wrists to my sides and asked if it was pinching or otherwise uncomfortable. I answered that it felt fine. "Good," Mistress said. "You're going to be like this all night, so it needs to be tolerable."

I was to be a prisoner in Mistress's bed! The thought sent a shudder through me, but I didn't have much time to react before Mistress held up her next surprise - some type of black leather headpiece, which she fitted on to my head and buckled the integral collar around my neck. "Come and see how you look in it, Annette." Mistress led me to a nearby mirror and I was staggered by the sight of myself. While the leather hood had cutouts for my eyes and mouth, I was still almost unrecognisable as myself! I was reduced to an anonymous, faceless plaything for my mistress, and the cuffs kept me from raising my hands to my face to confirm what my eyes were telling me. And if that wasn't enough, I saw the collar. Mistress had put a collar on me for the first time!

"W-what are you going to do to me, Mistress?"

Mistress gave me a wicked smile and attached a leash to my collar. As she led me out of the dungeon, she said, "Anything I want."