Chapter 1 - Conned

 

I am Alexander Higginson. Why am I telling you this? Because I ceased to exist, no, I did not die; I became it, you, slave, as my Mistress degraded me, shamed me and beat me into being her addendum. I was less than a piece of furniture and of less value. I was reduced to a nothing and here is how she did it. This is why it is also written in the third person, as if I were being talked about, I, no-longer, existed.

 

To say that he was excited would be an understatement. Here he was sat in the garden of a local pub. The May sun was still high in the sky, warming the ground. It was a beautiful early summer's evening. The birds were singing, the beer was cooling and, best of all, he was about to meet a very beautiful young lady.

He looked at his watch. It was eight o'clock, the time they agreed to meet. He smiled; she was going to be enticingly late, making him wait in eager anticipation for her appearance.

At thirty-one and with one marriage behind him, he felt lucky that an introduction had been made and he was now to have a few drinks with the woman of his dreams, a woman dreams are made of.

She is demure, elegant, and strong, yet she has the sweetest face imaginable. She was older than he was by a couple of years and they did go to the same school, the local secondary school. But she was in a class two years above his and he could only gaze on at her in awe. Her long, jet black hair hanging in waves down her back, her trim waist, full breasts and slender hips had all the boys desperate to date her.

He remembered watching through the railings that separated the boys' playground from the girls' play ground after school and as she left, a boy went up to her, to date her. The look of disdain she gave the boy cut him to the wick. He was from a class two years below her and therefore too young for her to be interested in. The boy was still very wet behind the ears and definitely not sophisticated enough, for her.

Almost a year of being celibate had passed and he was to have a few drinks with that very same girl, now a woman.

Her face lit up the area with the bright smile, her stance showed everyone that she was controlled and in control. All the men watched as she made her way to the lucky guy waiting to meet her. He was the envy of every man in the pub garden as they watched her make her way with deliberate steps to the table where he sat.

The years had improved her; if anything, she was even more confident, more beautiful than he remembered, her long black waves were still there, her bust just as well defined, her waist just as trim and her hips just as slim and now with legs that were shapely and went all the way up, disappearing up her just-above-the-knee skirt.

His heart pounded as he watched her approach, he felt he should bow to her, she was so elegant and sophisticated, her head held high, not aloof, just confident, her blouse open a few buttons, allowing her cleavage to show, but not too much, just the right degree to allow her breasts to be on display, yet not overtly crude.

His hand shook as he took a sip of beer, a person spoke to her and she stopped, he was a lot older and she bent down and smiled at him, giving him a peck on the cheek. 'Did he have competition, already?' he wondered. No, he was too old, surely.

She had a smile that would light a moonless night. She exchanged a few words with the man, a hand caressed his face and she smiled and moved on. Now she was approaching his table, he stood up, shaking. He put the smile to his lips and opened his eyes wide, she looked at him and smiled and her hands went to her bottom and pushed her skirt flat against it as she sat down on the chair he had pulled out for her at his table, trying, unusually, to be a gentleman. He was clean and had put his best jacket on, but it was worn, not dirty just a few years old and well worn, like all his clothes.

Every male in the place looked at them; mouths open in shock that she had chosen to sit at his table. Envy was written on every male face. He felt he had been granted a royal audience.

"Hello. You have not changed one little bit, just as beautiful as ever and now, so in control, elegant and demure, like a good wine, excellent when pressed, but with a few years, it improves," he said, feeling awkward and unable to speak his mind properly. He just wanted her to get her knickers off and for her to suck him off, there and then, wow.

"Contrary to popular belief, with age we gain knowledge and confidence in most people," she said, looking down on him as he slouched on the table.

He looked at her and sat bolt upright, she had this way with her. She demanded how you were expected to behave. Perhaps it came from her being a teacher and in command of a classroom. He understood they were adolescents, teenagers, and she would be demanding their attention. Sandra, a friend who knew them both, had said that she was a teacher when he bumped into her recently. The woman of his dreams had given him the look, a look of not disdain, but more of being a naughty little boy and to pay attention.

"Sandra said that you were a teacher when I bumped into her the other day," he said, trying to ease his uncomfortable feeling, as if he were being assessed.

"Sandra did tell me that you bumped into her and that you were as clumsy as ever. Yes, I teach in a private school. She also told me that you were single. I was sorry to hear that the marriage didn't work out for you and that you were not in gainful employment," she said, still looking down on him, even though he was now sat bolt upright and looking her in the eyes.

"Yes, it tends to upset the manager when you have sex with his wife in the stock room, but she came on to me. I was interviewed for a job today as a sales assistant in the main store in town. I am very hopeful," he said. This was turning into a cross examination. She seemed to know a lot about him and he knew very little about her.

"Which school is it you teach at? No, my apologies, a drink first, you must be thirsty," he said quickly, trying to ease his feelings and remembering his manners, also he needed another pint, very much. The meeting was not turning out how he had hoped.

"Can you afford to buy drinks on the social security?" she asked bluntly.

"Yes, that is part of the problem, to stay as I am; I need more money than I am being offered in work. I am better off on the dole," he said.

"Then I will have a John Collins, please," she ordered.

"No problem, excuse me," he said, trying to be correct and got up, bumping into a man passing their table. They both apologised, but he did see Patricia raise her eyes in shock or dismay, either would be a good description.

He returned with the drink and placed it in front of her, then sat down again, making sure he was sat erect and that he didn't bump into anyone else, or spill their drinks.

"The school, yes, it is a private one, where I teach on a one to one basis. The principal bought a small manor house on the outskirts of the next town, to educate in manners, deportment and life skills. The idea is to make a well-educated person an asset to a firm, thereby ensuring promotions by being a person it is nice to be with, but also able to complete their duties to a high standard, whilst showing respect for others," she told him, in her aloof way.

This was not going as he expected. He expected by now they would be on their way to his flat, one drink and then get your knickers off, but she would not be falling for his charm so easily. It may take a couple of dates before she stripped off for him and got down to it, he assumed.

"I did hear about your escapades in the stock room. Did you think it wise to, shall we say, screw around in there, when you were being paid to work, weren't you?" she asked.

Straight to the point, as cold and blunt as ever. Her mind didn't interest him, just her body and it was within his reach.

"Not really, I was doing him a favour, she was drying up and he was too busy working to have the time and energy to satisfy her. So I did it for him. He should have been grateful to me for keeping his wife happy," he said, adding, "have you any idea of how many women have never experienced an orgasm? All my women have," he bragged.

"Really? An orgasm, every time?" she asked, as if shocked, but quietly.

"Guaranteed, every time," he confirmed in a bold voice.

"But didn't it bother you that you were cheating on your wife?" she asked him.

"I kept her happy as well, she wasn't losing out, so why should it?" he asked, unconcerned.

"Ethics, I suppose, just being loyal to your partner, but that is all in the past now. You are a free man again and able to go with whoever will join you. Are there a lot of free females for you to choose from?"

"Loads," he boasted, telling a bold lie; he hadn't had a woman since he was sacked and his divorce.

"I hope I am not spoiling your evening's entertainment, then?"

"Not in the least, it is my pleasure to be seen with such a beautiful and elegant woman. You never married, so I hear? You are not, erm, well?" he asked, stuttering, unable to ask such a direct question when he wanted to bed her, mainly in fear of the answer, he supposed.

"Thank you for the compliment. I do try to be correct in all that I do and perhaps that is why I never married. Men fear me, or rather my demanding ways and no, I am not lesbian," she said.

The words were there, right on the tip of his tongue, asking her to prove it, but she was right, she had this aura that made him stutter and be more reserved, unable to be as direct as he usually was, was it fear of her ear, as she had put it?

By now he would have had his hand on her tit, or up her skirt, asking her to get down to business, but she had commanded control and he was left a quivering wreck. Gone his forthright approach, he was just a dithering fool, talking to the woman of his dreams, drooling over her expanse of breast on display, yet even that was not overtly displayed, just the right amount to make it interesting, but not available, or was it?

"Alcohol affects the working parts of the male anatomy, so I think it unwise for us to have another drink. I would hate you to fail," she said.

What? She is asking him to go and fuck her? His reputation must be much better than he thought.

"As you wish," he said and stood up, offering his hand to her, she took it and stood up and led the way. He followed on like a lost sheep, a little child being led by his mother.

"I presume you do not have a vehicle, my car is over here," she said heading to a nice, very nice BMW 300 series convertible.

"Nice car, teachers do get paid a lot, don't they?" he asked, trying to get back at her a little for the dig about him being unemployed.

"Teachers, not really, when you consider the out of hours' work they put in, but as I said. I teach privately, my clients pay well for my attentions to them. We now need to decide where we are going to enjoy the games, we play. I think my place is the best for what I have in mind, is that alright with you?" she asked him.

He thought about his flat, the state it was in, his bedroom with his dirty clothes all over the place, so he agreed. Apart from the fact that he was desperate to see her home, it would be luxurious in comparison to his and most peoples, he thought.

It was about a half hour drive to her place, she had a flat inside the school, so she told him. What a place! It was a small mansion, it was massive, the drive alone must have been half a mile long and the front was bigger than the two blocks of flats he lived in.

A butler opened the door and a young man came out hurriedly to open the car doors, bowing excessively to Patricia. She stood erect and in total control, now he saw her as being aloof. He got out of the car, the young man closed her door and ran inside to be ahead of them in readiness to take their coats.

"William, coffees in the lounge, please?" she said calmly as a request, but it had an order about her instruction in the way she spoke.

"Yes, Ma'am, will there be anything else, Ma'am?" he asked with a slight bow to her.

"No, you may go and the boy, but I may need Andrea. No, on second thoughts, I will need her. I have a very strong feeling that we will have a guest, for the night," she ordered him.

"Very good, Madam," he replied with another slight bow.

'A guest for the night,' had she said?

This was too good to be true. He was to sleep with her all night, two, no three fucks, then breakfast and being served by a butler. Way beyond his wildest dreams. He couldn't have been happier if he had won the lottery.

The boy she had spoken of, was mid-twenties and no more a boy than he was, but that was what she had called him, not by name, 'the boy may go,' so aloof, so arrogant, even. She was treating him more like a slave than a servant. This was not his problem, all that mattered to him was that he was with the woman of his dreams and they were going to fuck. He was determined to screw the arse off her and he could feel his dick rising in anticipation.