CHAPTER ONE

 

"I expect you're wondering why I've sent for you, 808," said the Governor.

The prisoner thus addressed by his last three numbers was named Frank Lander and he was a man in his early thirties, his face a little haggard and sallow after two years, eight months in Oakhampton Gaol.

"Yes, Sir, I am rather," he answered fidgeting a little as he stood before the Governor's desk.

"Well, it's good news, 808" said the grizzled, middle-aged man. He was typical of his breed ... hard-eyed, coarse in appearance, running to fat.

Frank Lander's face brightened and he relaxed a little. The nearer he got to the end of his sentence (and he now had only four more months to go) the more worried he got that something would go wrong and he would find he had to do that extra year he had already earned remission.

"Thank you, Sir," he said respectfully. He had learnt how to kow-tow to guards and the Governor, much as it went against the grain. But, when you were in gaol they could make your life Hell for you if they wished so, bitter as it was it was best to play ball.

"In view of your model behaviour, 808." Went on the Governor, "I'm putting you on light duties for the last four months you serve here. It is something I regularly do with prisoners like yourself. You see ... my wife had difficulty in getting staff for our residence. Outside staff, that is. So I allocate her a prisoner to help out around the house and garden."

"I see, Sir ..." nodded Frank Lander.

"No objection to domestic duties, I trust?" added the Governor with a lop-sided grin.

"Oh ... none, Sir," said Frank quickly. It sounded a real cushy number after months and months of sweating it out in the laundry and the engineering shop.

"Right then, 808," concluded the Governor. "Tomorrow morning, at ten o'clock, you'll be escorted to my residence. My wife will give you a work schedule ... and you'll be escorted back to the gaol at four o'clock. Of course, you'll be on trust while you're there, because my residence is outside the prison precincts. Still, I don't think I need tell you what would happen if you tried to make a run for it."

"No, Sir," replied Frank meekly. What a damn fool he'd be to try that when he was so near the end of his sentence!

"Dismiss, 808."

Frank Lander turned smartly on his heel and stepped briskly to the door. First steps to freedom, he said to himself. Well, working in the Governor's residence would be a form of freedom compared with gaol life, wouldn't it?

Idly he began to wonder what the Governor's wife would be like. No great shakes, he reckoned, if the Governor himself is anything to go by! Still ... she was a woman after all, and couldn't be as cold and callous as her old man ...

 

***

 

Frank Lander got a bit of a shock when he arrived at the Governor's residence under escort the following morning. At first he couldn't believe it was the Governor's wife who opened the door but the guard who accompanied him addressed her respectfully as such.

"Prisoner 808, Frank Lander, reporting for household duties, Mrs. Page," he said.

"Thank you, Guard ..."

Frank saw a pair of dark brown eyes looking him up and down and suddenly had a butterfly feeling in his stomach. This woman must be twenty years younger than her husband. Around thirty, if that. Frank strove not to look too boldly back but was conscious of a well-made body under a tight-fitting Navy Blue skirt and a low-cut multi-coloured blouse. Frank felt a sudden warmth in his crotch. This was the first woman he had been even near to for longer than he cared to remember. Christ, he'd have to watch himself! Didn't want to foul it all up now ...

"I'll be back for him at four o'clock, Mrs. Page," Frank heard the guard saying.

The Governor's wife made a nod of dismissal. "Very well, Guard," she said, not taking her eyes off Frank. "Step inside, 808."

Frank did so and heard the door being closed and locked behind him. Then Mrs. Page came past him. He caught the scent of her. An aromatic scent. And it made his pulse beat faster. Then he had a rear view of his new 'employer' ... seeing the shapely woman-curves of her hindquarters swinging seductively as she moved down a passageway. He was astonished by the height of her stiletto heels. Five or six inches, he guessed. It must be a new fashion. Certainly they hadn't been worn as high as that when he had been put away.

They entered a living room and Mrs. Page seated herself casually on the arm of a chair. She seemed quite unconcerned by the amount of thigh she was showing as one limb crossed over the other. With beating heart, Frank stood waiting. He was trying desperately to stem the desire rising within him but, when you've been without a woman for almost three years, that's not by any means easy. He must ... yes, he must ... try and get a grip on himself!

"Your name is Frank?" The voice was cool and calm, but had a hard edge to it. The eyes had a self-assurance and authority about them.

"Yes, Ma'am ..."

"I shall call you that, rather than 808."

Frank experienced a little stab of anger. Perhaps it was the tone of the Governor's wife; perhaps because she was in a position to call him what she liked. He was not used to being treated like that by women. However, Frank did not show his momentary anger.

"Yes, Ma'am," he answered meekly. No doubt I shall get used to being ordered around by a woman; just as I got used to being ordered around by men, he thought.

"There's a list on the table. Pick it up, Frank."

"Yes, Ma'am ..." He did so.

"Those are your duties for today, Frank."

The list looked remarkably long to Frank, but he said nothing. Doubtless some of the things on the list would take very little time.

"I suppose I start at the top and work down the list, Ma'am?"

"That's right, Frank. You will work in trousers and shirt. When you are in the garden, you may remove your shirt if you find it too hot."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

"Right ... off you go then. You'll find your first chores are in the kitchen. You get a half hour break at one o'clock."

Christ ... only half an hour off in six hours! Frank almost protested but then thought better of it. He didn't want to fall out with the Governor's wife on the first day. Perhaps things would ease up as time went by. As he left the room, Frank thought he detected a faint, derisive smile on his 'employer's' lips. But her eyes were as hard as ever.

Entering the kitchen, Frank saw a large pile of dirty crocks, glasses and saucepans waiting. Dealing with them was first on his list. Must have had some kind of party, he thought, as he set about the vast array. Women's work really, he reflected bitterly. Still, prisoners couldn't be choosers. Especially prisoners with only four months to go.

 

***

 

The first morning, Frank Lander found the going pretty tough. Though he was used to heavy work, he was surprised how wearying sweeping, scrubbing, polishing and the like could be. He began to realise why women so often complained about housework. On the other hand, as a general rule, they did not have so many tasks to undertake as he did!

Frank caught only glimpses of Mrs. Page that morning but frequently heard her gossiping on the telephone. Lazy cow, he thought with sudden savagery, as he staggered with an over-laden dustbin to the incinerator. Life was so easy for some!

He was indeed glad when he heard one o'clock striking, followed by that authoritative voice summoning him into the living room. Mrs. Page was sprawled on a couch, one leg drawn up so that three-quarters of one long thigh was exposed. Frank could not tear his eyes away.

"Fetch me my lunch, Frank," ordered the Governor's wife from behind a magazine. "You'll find it all set out on a tray in the pantry."

"Yes, Ma'am," said Frank with a slight edge to his voice. He sensed that his 'employer' was deliberately goading him with these menial maid-like tasks. Still, what could he do about it?

The magazine was lowered and a pair of dark eyes flashed dangerously. "Do I detect resentment in your voice, Frank?" asked Mrs. Page coolly. "Insolence, maybe?"

"N-No ... Ma'am ..." stammered Frank, feeling himself colouring slightly as if caught out like a naughty schoolboy.

"Don't you dare get stroppy with me, you bastard," said the Governor's wife, with steel in her voice. "Get out!"

Frank hurried out to fetch the tray. The bitch, the damn bitch, she knew she had him in her power! It was all a game to her. She was taunting him, too, showing all that leg. My God, what wouldn't he give to be able to fuck the arse off the arrogant cow! That would put her in her place! Frank found himself beginning to get hard at the very thought as he went back with the laden tray.

"You take your lunch in the outhouse," said Mrs. Page as she received the tray without thanks. "It consists of half a loaf of bread and as much water as you want. Get it from the kitchen."

Even as she spoke, Hettie Page was removing a half-bottle of Chablis from an ice-bucket.

Feeling yet again the bitterness of deliberately being treated like dirt, Frank turned and silently left the room. He was grinding his teeth, just beginning to realise that being under the thumb of a woman ... especially a young and attractive one ... was worse than being under the thumb of any man.

 

***

 

After pecking at his miserable 'lunch' ... and brooding miserably ... Frank returned to work. And now, for the first time, he studied the list in detail, in order to see how much time he had for each task. He saw that beds had to be made and bedrooms tidied ... followed by laundering ... then cleaning windows. Then Frank was suddenly startled by the last item on the list.

'Bring me the hairbrush off my dressing-table', it read.

Puzzled, he read it several times. What on earth could it mean? Most likely an error, he thought at last. Still, it was most strange. Wearily he made his way upstairs to get on with the afternoons chores.

It was not long before Frank realised that Mrs. Page was not only lazy but careless and slapdash too. Her bedroom was scattered with all sorts of clothing ... and underclothing. But, even as he mumbled angrily as he picked up the mass of flimsy, feminine items, Frank was aware of the little erotic thrills he was getting. What brief and sexy knickers they were; he could not help thinking of where they rested. Some of the brassieres were half-cup; others, he saw, had holes cut in them so that the nipples were exposed. Yes ... the Governor's wife seemed a sexy piece alright. Why on earth had she married that fat, middle-aged slob of a husband?

At last the bedroom was put shipshape and Frank loaded up the automatic washing machine. That was an easy enough task anyway. It would give him adequate time to clean the windows. Was he supposed to do all of them, he wondered? Both inside and out? At length he decided to start with the outside ... and went in search of a ladder, a bucket and a leather. I shall be glad when this day's over, he thought. Still, perhaps she was just testing him out on this first day. He didn't see how she could possibly find so many chores for him every day!

 

***

 

It was while Frank was upstairs, cleaning one of several picture-windows which faced south and west that Hettie Page came into the room into which he was facing.

Frank nearly fell off his ladder ...

For the Governor's wife was wearing just about the tightest and briefest black leotard he had ever seen!

Beforehand, vaguely, Frank noticed the room was a little unusual. Not containing normal furniture that is. There were some rings hanging from ropes and a rowing machine in one corner. Obviously some sort of miniature private gymnasium.

It all clicked into place as his 'employer' entered and began raising and stretching her arms and doing knees-bend exercises. Frank's first impulse was to slide down the ladder fast ... but he was held fascinated by the magnificence of the scantily clad body he could see. He clung there, sweating, pulses pounding, feasting his eyes.

My God, what a body it was!

The strangest thing was, the Governor's wife seemed completely unconcerned by his voyeur activities. Not once did she look his way. Maybe, he thought suddenly, she can't see me. Perhaps it is that kind of window. One-way only. But that seemed odd. You'd think the one-way would be the other way round. But it must be something like that. Surely. Otherwise she would do something herself ...

Well, I'm enjoying myself anyway, said Frank happily to himself.

All the more so when Hettie Page went down on to her back, raised her legs high in the air and began a cycling movement.

God, what a superb bottom!

And the material of the leotard was so thin and tight, the sex-lips were clear and prominent!

Christ ... I can't stand it, thought Frank. After so-long a deprivation! The pressure on him was cruel. So cruel that he had to unzip. His throbbing erection came thrusting out. For a moment, Frank almost gripped it and started playing with himself. Then he thought better of it. Someone might come into the garden.

Hettie Page had changed the exercise again ...

Now she was bending and touching her toes again and again. Her legs were astride and her back was towards Frank's vantage point. The lush curvaceousness, and all it surrounded, came lunging at him rhythmically. Frank thought of himself seizing those flanks ... ripping away the flimsy leotard ... plunging rampantly into the cleft. Fucking her ... and himself ... to a standstill!

Frank hung there, moaning and gibbering in the agony of his frustration. How could he endure it! The palms of his hands were so sweaty he once almost lost grip of the ladder.

Then the exercise changed yet again.

Looking calm and unconcerned (and certainly unwatched!) Hettie Page stepped across and seated herself on the rowing machine ... and began to exercise with long, easy strokes.

Up and down went the thighs ... back and forth went the white arms ...

And Frank lusted madly after the big breasts which were almost bursting through the thinness of the black leotard!

All thoughts of the tasks he was supposed to be performing had been driven from his mind. It had time for only one thing. To mentally devour and ravage this superb body.

"Oh ... it's been so long ... so long ..." said Frank out aloud. He was almost sobbing.

At that moment, Hettie Page rose gracefully up out of the rowing machine and moved across to the window. Once again, Frank almost fell off the ladder as she stood right up close to the window. A pair of lips came close to the window.

Faintly Frank heard the message.

"You will now carry out the final order on your list," he heard the Governor's wife say.

Frank felt suddenly dizzy.

She must have known I was there all the time, he thought. Yes ... she knew! And didn't mind! God ... what could it mean? Trembling with anxiety, Frank stumbled down the ladder to the ground. His knees felt rubbery as he made his way into the house. Only just in time did he remember to thrust back his erection and zip up again.