Michael Ch. 11

Amanda looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror. White top, light blue torn jeans ending below the knee, tan sandals and a multi-pattern light jacket in browns and gold. Hair, a full afro.

"What do you reckon, Sammie? As Mistress of the household, indeed the compound with mother away, you think this is a good look?"

"You look amazing, Miss Amanda," said Sammie with genuine enthusiasm, her own crisp white blouse, short black skirt, and stockings in sharp contrast. Her hair was in a tight bun, and the black metal collar bit into her neck. The locking mechanism at the back, with its two metal plates pressed against her skin, held a modified taser.

It was nearly four months, and Amanda had seized the position as de facto head of the house. She seemed taller, harder but still with that warm smile that Sammie adored. In that four months, Sammie had bonded, almost fused with Amanda.

"There is a full menu of activities today, with guests and events tomorrow," said Sammie. The compound was open again, and the late summer air was crisp with expectation as they swept downstairs to the main kitchen. The cleaning staff were putting finishing touches to the polishing and tidying. Excited chatter in various languages as they skittered around. Nods to Amanda and Sammie as they passed, the latter testing out surfaces as she followed her Mistress.

"Cookie!" exclaimed Amanda engulfing the woman in her arms.

"Oh, Miss Amanda, put me down!" she shrieked, beaming at the girl who ruled them with considerably more love and affection than her mother.

"Museli with fruit, soy milk and a skimmed tea. You spoil me Cookie." Sourly, Amanda dug her spoon into the bowl.

"It's for the best. Sammie proofed it earlier." Cookie said with mock sternness.

"Is eating museli out of a dog bowl a messy affair?" smiled Amanda.

"Lots of practice, Miss Amanda."

"Run through the today's schedule, Sammie."

"An adult production has hired us for the day, various shoots taking place, with the house boys and girls as decoration around the main performers. Themes are bondage and sexual slavery. We are indoor filler scenes for the outside scenes shot on location. Then we have that trans actress you think is hot, Naomi May. She gets stranded by her boyfriend, knocks on the door and gets banged by the male occupants. That will be in the afternoon. Naomi is staying the night and having dinner with us."

"Sounds like a fun day."

****

The screaming finally stopped. Michelle sank back into the sun lounger, thankful for the blessed quiet.

"Taxi will be here for Jalsa shortly, Mistress." Tilly wore baggy pants, a white smock and a sun hat that shaded her from the heat.

There was a sour grunt in response. Picking up her iced drink, Michelle took a long sip. She was recuperating at her Island villa in the hills and back to putting in long hours in the gym, and the benefits showed, her naked body muscled and toned.

"I'm off!" Jalsa announced, a hold-all slung over her shoulder. "I'll wait at the end of the drive for the taxi since you won't let Max drive me."

For the best, dear. Max would happily drop you over a cliff edge. "Do you want to leave an address so I can send over your stuff?"

"I want fuck all from you!" Jalsa retorted with heat.

Idly, Michelle wondered how much cash and jewellery Jalsa had stashed in the hold-all. Much as she found Jalsa beguiling, she wasn't sorry to see her leave. They had broken up before, but enough was enough. The girl was taking the piss. Unfortunately, Michelle found Jalsa's sneering disregard for her very hot.

"Has she gone for good?" asked Tilly.

"Yes."

"Good!" Tilly spat out with venom.

"I should slap you for that."

"I don't care!" Tilly was almost mutinous.

Michelle laughed. "Market day in the harbour. Let's say we do some browsing and shopping."

A flush of pleasure added to Tilly's already red face. "Yes, Mistress!"

The market was a tourist trap, cheap tat and knockoff clothes. For once, Michelle indulged Tilly, who was holding up tops and admiring herself in the mirror, the cash Michelle had given her clutched in her hand.

Picking through some ornate necklaces and earrings, the fair-haired woman at the stall smiled at Michelle.

"Anything take your fancy, or are you looking for a gift?"

"No, not really." Michelle wasn't in the mood for conversation.

"This blue and yellow stone would suit your daughter," the woman went on.

"What?" For a moment, Michelle thought she meant Tilly.

"Your daughter, this would suit her skin tones."

I'm not having a good day. "You mean Jalsa? She isn't my daughter."

"Oh, sorry, I shouldn't have presumed. I've seen you with her a few times and thought, well it doesn't matter what I thought," the woman concluded hastily. Her open features looked embarrassed. She had untidy long hair, freckles and a gentle softness to her. Michelle guessed she was early thirties.

"I'm Michelle," surprising herself by volunteering her name so readily.

"Gabrielle."

"This your stall?"

"No, my sister's, Gail. I'm here on holiday and staying with her. Only way I can afford it on a teachers salary!" Gabrielle had a wide smile. "I help out on here to give her a day off and pay for my board."

"Sounds fair. Jalsa was my girlfriend."

"Oh." There was a hint of disproval.

"You object?"

"About having a girlfriend? Hardly. She did seem very young. though."

"Age is no barrier to love." Fuck! Did I really say that?

"No, I guess not, although you did say 'was' so," Gabrielle gave an apologetic shrug.

"Well, it's none of your fucking business."

Gabrielle coloured. "I apologise, you are right."

"Mistress," panted Tilly, eager to show her purchases, as Michelle grabbed her by the elbow and steered her away.

"Cheeky cow," muttered Michelle.

"Who?"

"Never mind. Yes, yes, you can show me the rubbish you bought over a drink."

****

For a porn film, it was a high-end production. Amanda and Sammie watched with fascination as the make-up woman applied concealment to a tattoo on a young girl's breast.

The director was Elaine Chang, a Welsh/Chinese woman in her forties with a quick smile and a slightly sing-song voice that captivated Amanda.

"You have a lovely home, the grounds, the living decorations, so many pretty boys and girls, perfect for the indoor scenes for the lair of the Master," said Elaine.

"So what happens here?"

"In this scene, Tiffany here has been kidnapped from a school where she is the Religious Education teacher. Very pious, a virgin and is about to be seduced and hypnotised by the spell of the Master. Basically, he is going to bang her in sequence."

"Sequence?"

"Yep, suck, fuck, anal, suck, cum in face."

"Not very spontaneous!" laughed Amanda.

"You have to figure the lighting and camera angles from the off. It saves time, and the guy can't keep it up forever. By the way, you're a stunning girl. You could make a career out of this if you're interested."

"Mistress would not do something like this," said Sammie.

Raising an eyebrow, Elaine said: "Mistress?"

"Sammie is my personal maid, and she shouldn't talk out of turn. But she is right I wouldn't."

"Maid, huh?" Elaine looked at the collar and smiled. "So, Ms Leason is not here. Shame, I was looking forward to meeting her, an interesting character."

"My mother is, yes."

"Your mother? I didn't realise."

Noting the sudden deference, Amanda smiled. She enjoyed that feeling of power.

A young man carrying a boom mike nodded to Elaine. "Think we are good to go."

"Great," said Elaine clapping her hands enthusiastically.

****

Chatting away happily, Tilly wiped the beer suds from her mouth. "Think I was a bit too eager drinking it," she giggled.

"Yeah." Michelle was still annoyed, as much by the woman being right. Chasing after girls as young as Jalsa was pathetic. She was turning into her mother. Men were out. Michelle refused to date men. Casual or sordid sex, yes. Emotionally involved, never again--her mind shying away from the reason why. Which left women, which was fine, but immature girls?

"What do you think to my new hat, Mistress?"

"Shut up, Tilly. I'm thinking."

Tilly shut up.

****

"He has a huge cock!" Amanda whispered as they watched the young blonde girl take it into her mouth, her initial 'struggles' morphing into passionate desire.

"Yes, Miss Amanda."

"When was the last time you had cock, Sammie? You've been into pussy for years haven't you? Not tempted on the side?"

"Sometimes," Sammie admitted. "I swung both ways when I was younger, then choices dictated my sexual partners after that."

"Well, that's one way of putting it!" laughed Amanda. "Talking of putting it, see what he is doing now!"

The blonde girl was on all fours, howling at him to fuck her and fuck her hard!

"Do you think I can hire him for later?" giggled Amanda.

"Miss Amanda, I wouldn't--" Sammie stopped as the warning tingle on the back of her neck silenced her.

"Sammie, dear, Sammie. What do I keep telling you about speaking out of turn?"

"Not to do it, Miss Amanda." Tensing in the event Amanda upped the setting, Sammie resisted the urge to prostrate herself at her Mistress's feet. The overwhelming feeling of submission and the ever-present threat of the collar was an intoxicating mix.

"Then why do you keep doing it?"

"I pledged to offer you my best counsel, Miss Amanda, no matter the personal cost."

"Perhaps we should have you speared on the end of that cock? A little private porno for my own enjoyment. Do they do commissions? What do you think?" mused Amanda.

"If that would please you, then I will, of course, be happy to participate," replied Sammie, hating the idea.

"It would please me, it would be very entertaining." Amanda toggled the wheel on the app, just enough to make Sammie stiffen, then dialled it back.

****

"Hi, you're back." Gabrielle was determined to keep it light and upbeat.

"Yeah." Michelle's tone was hostile.

Gabrielle frowned. "Look, I don't want any trouble. I shouldn't have said what I said, please accept my apology."

"You apologise a lot." Michelle struggled to keep the aggression out of her voice.

Now visibly upset, Gabrielle nodded. "I do if I'm in the wrong, and I was. But, I would ask you to leave, I have customers, and I don't like confrontation."

The two men at the stall took in Gabrielle's distress, the woman with them frowning at Michelle.

"Probably best if you do as the lady asked," one of the guys said.

"Fuck off." Michelle knew she was losing control, yet it was the last thing she wanted. Her frustrations with herself were undermining her.

"No need for that," the guy replied, still keeping it neutral.

A small crowd had started to congregate. Tilly appeared at Michelle's elbow.

With an effort, Michelle choked back her words, the aggression bitter in the back of her throat.

"Mistress, you can take it out on me later," whispered Tilly.

"Please, I really don't want any unpleasantness. I accept it's partly my fault," said Gabrielle.

Under Tilly's coaxing, Michelle allowed herself to be led away. "Sit here a while," said Tilly, parking her Mistress on a bench some fifty meters from the stall.

"Don't handle me, you know I hate that!"

Tilly kept quiet.

"Fuck, what did I do that for?" Michelle yelled at herself.

"She is a nice woman," observed Tilly.

"Yes, she is, so, why do I want to trash her and her stall?"

"Because you like her?"

"That makes no sense!"

"It does if you want to protect her."

Michelle brooded over this. "You're talking crap, as always."

"Yes, Mistress." But pushing her away before you get close protects her, and you know it.

****

Elaine thought the idea of a commission shoot during the lunch break was amusing. The cash offer made her and the male star very cooperative.

"So the idea is, you bring Sammie over to where he is sitting, making her raise her skirt, then do her in the arse, I think it's a while since she has had cock. No, hang on, I've got a better idea!" Walking over to the bar area, Amanda moved all but two stools. "Okay, we are both sitting here, chatting, you come behind Sammie, raise her skirt, then do her in the arse while she sits, and we keep chatting!" Amanda was bouncing with ideas.

"Sure," said Elaine, "you okay with that, dear?"

"Sammie is fine," replied Amanda.

"I prefer to get it from Sammie."

"It's fine," said Sammie quickly.

"As I said." Amanda was quick to impatience if questioned.

"Okay, then. Hop onto the stools. I take it you are receptive to anal? Mike here will be wearing a rubber."

At this, Sammie did hesitate and looked at Amanda.

"The condom is lubed?" asked Amanda.

Mike nodded.

"Then we are good to go," said Amanda, leading Sammie to the stool. "Camara man in place?"

A young guy, carrying the camera loosely by his side, also nodded. "There's enough light."

Holding Sammie's hands, Amanda leaned in and kissed her. "Isn't this thrilling? The household is gathering to watch!"

The house boys and girls had grouped in a loose circle out of camera shot. Their quiet excited chatter filtered through to Sammie, her face pink and her stomach knotted. The anal part was an added twist that concerned her, the humiliation of the situation eroding that concern. In some ways, Amanda was her mother's daughter, her approach perhaps more finessed and couched in gentler language.

Settling on the stool, Sammie accepted the drink from the house girl behind the bar, a pretty blonde girl, her eyes suspiciously dulled by substances. The House rules were harsh on those unable to work but also tended to look away when not too obvious.

Aware that her Mistress was talking, Sammie tried to focus. She could see Amanda was playing with the remote to her collar, then sensed the bulk of the man coming up behind her. Holding her breath, she felt him press against her, his hands reaching for her skirt, then almost lifting her out of the stool as he pulled it up.

Wobbling, Sammie steadied herself against Amanda, the look in her owner's eyes was that of excitement, and, yes, a hint of cruelty that giving someone dominion over you invariably invoked, even in the best of people.

Her arse felt cold against the wood of the stool, then the sheathed wood of the man poked against her. Instinctively Sammie leaned forward, raising herself to give him access. Biting her lip, she knew it would be uncomfortable, even hurt, which would please her Mistress, and in turn, pleasing Amanda was now her sole reason for being. It was, in turn, exhilarating and dangerous.

"Uhh," the gasp was involuntary as he penetrated her, the pain coming quickly then subsiding. The intrusion felt wrong. The bar girl was smirking, her fogged brain enjoying Sammie's plight.

Firm hands grasped her hips as Mike started to pump into her, slowly at first, then with more surety. To ease the discomfort, Sammie fell forward, her hands resting in Amanda's lap. The hot breath of her Mistress was on her ear, then a little kiss and a whisper, "He's really pumping your arse, Sammie, does it feel good? Putting on a show for everyone, we can play this on the monitors and on the net."

Breathing faster, Sammie responded as much, if not more, to Amanda's words, than the actual fucking. The situation, the humiliation, and her Mistress's pleasure meant more to Sammie than the act of penetration.

Lips sought hers, kissing her passionately. Sammie never felt closer to Amanda. It was Amanda fucking her in the arse. She wanted it to be Amanda fucking her in the arse. Sammie loved Amanda. Loved her so much that she felt tears welling.

"Thank you, Miss Amanda," she whispered, "I love you."

Holding Sammie close, Amanda smiled a satisfied smile. "I know," she replied.

****

The moon shimmered in the water, and Gabrielle sat with her sister outside one of the bars on the harbour front. The night air was warm but fresh.

"Why was she so weird?" asked Gail.

"No idea, I mean, I shouldn't have said what I said."

"Rubbish. Woman in her forties with a girl young enough to be her daughter? Its bad enough blokes doing it. Pathetic if you ask me."

"Maybe, but we don't know the circumstances. It did unsettle me, though. Think I'll sit on the beach tomorrow with a book."

"A fair haired woman, you said, facial scar?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because one's heading this way."

Obsessive was often a word associated with Michelle, Miss M, Raven, or whoever she was at any one time, and it was rarely used kindly.

The two women at the table looked up at her. There was some resemblance between the two. The older was darker, more tanned, and had less of a startled deer look. Gabrielle was, well, started deer in frozen flight mode.

"I'm sorry," announced Michelle. "About earlier." She stared out across the harbour. Her own nature compelled her to do this, even if good sense dictated she left well alone. Striding up like this wasn't helping. She had ascertained where Gail lived from her market licence and walked around the area to see if she could catch them. Stalking was a word best not used.

"Okay," said Gail. "Thank you for that, now if you will excuse us."

"I would like to take you to dinner, or lunch sometime, if I may," continued Michelle, ignoring Gail and now staring at a wide-eyed Gabrielle. "To make up for my behaviour."

"Oh," said Gabrielle. "That isn't necessary, but thank you."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"As you wish," said Michelle, the disappointment in her voice self-evident. "Ladies." Michelle gave a little nod and walked off. Despite the rejection, she felt better for getting it off her chest.

Two streets down, she turned into Filo's, a small family hotel. The genial, rotund man at the desk nodded to her as she passed. She had booked a room for the night rather than returning to her villa. Max was enjoying dinner with the family.

"You find her?" he asked, his large hand wrestling a small boy to the ground and then tickling him.

"Yes," she shrugged. "I got what I deserved, I guess."

"Food's great." Max indicated the plates of colourful seafood dishes.

"Any sign of the youths?" Filo's had been getting hassle. Drunken low-grade nonsense.

"Not yet. It's not every night. I'll stay here for a while."

"I'll join you. It's a while since we had any fun."

They exchanged a look. The interview with the police two months ago had gone nowhere, but arrangements had been careless, and it served as a warning. Max had taken the brunt of Michelle's anger at the situation. It had been Max's commission and his responsibility. For her, it had been little more than a light distraction.

Michelle was dozing on the couch when Max shook her awake. There was shouting and laughing outside, then the sound of bottles breaking.

Flipping open her baton, Michelle held it against her leg and ventured out onto the street as Max slipped around the back. It had just gone midnight.

She found four youths, one urinating against the side of the hotel. Pulling her hoodie over her head, Michelle waited a minute, then gave a sharp whistle, attracting their attention. "Do you mind?"

"Don't mind if you don't, love," the lad finished urinating, exposing himself to her.

"I do mind. I mind very much."

They walked loosely toward her, Swagger and bravado rolling off them. Max's bulk slipped in behind.

"You had better fuck off," a red-headed youth said.

"I'll settling for fucking you up." The baton in her hand now visible.

Her unexpected demeanour and the weapon distracted and unsettled them. Max clubbing two in quick succession, did the rest. Michelle knee-stamped one and struck hard on the elbow of the other. They worked quickly and silently, observing the one rule Michelle always took to heart. End it before your opponent knows it has started.