Raine, on her Parade

She really was my chauffeur, but the spanking was just a little game she and I played now and again. I hadn't expected her to play it in front of my ex-wife, although I must admit it had made it even more fun. And she really had been very wet indeed.

After a couple of seconds, she turned, gave my hand an appreciative squeeze, then picked up her cap, donned it and stood by the door, ready to close it when I got in.

I did so with a sigh. "Thank you, Rose. Home, please. I really need a shower."

"Yes sir, I'll alert Alicia that you're on your way."

"Perfect."

She started to close the door, and then Raine -- who had been standing with her mouth so wide open I could see the fillings in her back teeth -- suddenly shrieked and leaped forward.

"Wait, this is your car?" she gasped.

"This is his work car," whispered Rose, knowing I could hear her clearly. At that moment I realised that she had recognised my ex -- from the photographs I had pinned to the dartboard on the back of my office door -- and was playing her almost as well as I had played that fish earlier. When a photograph got too many holes in it, one of the staff would print out another and replace it. I had become very good at playing darts.

"The Lamborghini, he uses when he goes to the clubs, or the Mercedes Sport when he tours the wine farms. He allows me to drive that one as a special treat. I'm not allowed to drive the Ferrari, though. Only he drives that one."

"You're his girlfriend?" gasped Raine, still in shock.

Rose was just as shocked. "Good lord no, madam! I'm his chauffeur. It would be improprietous for me to be his girlfriend, as well."

Raine looked at her with a very old-fashioned look on her face, but she had more urgent matters on her mind.

"I need a lift into town. I'll come with you."

Rose made a little sound of distress. I looked at her.

"Sir, the lady's er... scent would permeate through the car. It would be almost impossible to get it out. Michaela would skin me alive, sir. Please!"

"Agh. She's right Raine. Those fish guts you spread over your butt would ruin this leather. Sorry. You'll have to walk."

"Oh, thank you, sir. That's such a relief. Michaela wouldn't be as nice about spanking me as you are." Rose looked genuinely relieved.

"Wait," screeched Raine. "Let me think, please."

"You could take that thing off," suggested Rose. "You'd have to leave it here though. The smell would drive us all up the wall."

"What? I'm not leaving it here. It's a unique designer creation..."

"No. It's a knock-off. It's Chinese. You can tell by the way they've attached the little buttons at the waist."

Raine stared at her. "How would you even know that."

"I got a first at Oxford in design. Clothes were my first love."

"And now you're a chauffeur."

"Cars were my second love. They got a promotion in my affections after Sir hired me. Now, get it off and get in, or I will drive away and leave you. Sir can spank me later for doing it."

Raine hurried things along a little. The buttons Rose had mentioned were tricky little things to unfasten.

"Is Michaela his girlfriend?" whispered Raine.

"Of course not. She's his mechanic. Ha, she wishes she was his girlfriend."

"A female car mechanic. Not many of those around."

"She didn't start out as a mechanic. She's Italian. She was a final year engineering student in Rome when Sir found her, as well as modelling for Prada and Valentino. Alessandra was heartbroken when Michaela left to join Sir."

"Is this going to take much longer?" I asked idly. I was actually enjoying listening to Rose. I loved her accent. It was she who had persuaded me to use a voice coach. Originally it was handy for business deals. By this time, it had become the norm and I rarely lapsed from it, although I had enjoyed relaxing into the patois of my birth when Raine appeared.

"No sir, it's off... now!" I heard a rip and a shocked screech from Raine. Rose had simply taken it by the waistband and dragged it down until it tore away.

I looked with a little interest as I saw Rose's hands dart to Raine's blouse and start undoing it. Raine's panties were black and very abbreviated. I enjoyed looking at her plump little camel toe. What can I say? Raine's body was as tasty as her morals were nasty.

"Get off, you bitch," Raine hissed. "This one is a Parisian original."

"Oh please, the closest this thing ever got to Paris is when the container ship from Mumbai sailed through the Mediterranean. Don't you know anything about clothes?"

"Get off!"

"You are not getting in my car, sir's car, with this stinking rag on. Oh, the hell with this."

My interest peaked as I watched Rose tear the blouse apart, yank it down over her arms and then throw it down on top of the skirt. That was an interesting view as the struggles made my ex-wife's tits wobble and shake within her little black bra.

"Shoes!" demanded Rose, like the cutest little TSA official you ever did see.

The shoes were bundled together with the rags that had been clothing, and the whole lot was pushed into a bin.

"Get in, get in!" ordered Rose and Raine hurried to comply before she lost her underwear, as well, to the demented Englishwoman in her stupid cap. Wisely, she didn't say anything like that out loud.

"Sir, permission to drive a little faster. This... lady... slowed us up and Alicia wanted us to be dead on time: she has those soufflés in mind and if we're late and they collapse..."

I shuddered at the thought of Alicia's dismay.

"Go for it. If any cops catch us... well, at least we can show Alicia the speeding ticket as proof that we did try."

"Is Alicia your girlfriend?" Raine asked.

"No, Alicia is my chef."

"Also from Rome, I suppose."

I smiled at that thought. "No she's from Australia. Although she spent some time in Rome while she was getting her third Michelin star."

"And I suppose she modelled for Dolce and Gabana?" Sarcasm and disbelief fought for domination in her voice.

I heard Rose try to stifle a snigger, and had to join in.

"No she's not a fashion model," I said, when I got my face under control.

"She did do that centrefold for Playboy, Sir," chipped in Rose. "Surely that counts."

I had to agree. Alicia had modelled. It counted

Raine's mouth was doing a very good imitation of that old catfish.

"Michaela was the one who modelled for Dolce and Gabana in her earlier days," finished Rose.

"The mechanic..." The mouth was still doing the fish imitation.

"Yes. Her dad was a designer for the Lamborghini family," I explained. "And then for the Mimran brothers. He used to take her to work with him. Working on cars holds a lot of lovely memories for her."

"But she's not your chauffeur."

"Good lord, no." My accent was now mid-Atlantic, with plenty of British speech patterns in there. I enjoyed it. "When Chrysler bought the company, Michaela's dad was forced to retire. She blames the American Auto industry for that and wouldn't be seen dead driving a limousine, not even if I paid her. So I pay her to be my mechanic. She loves these cars like children, but she would never drive this one."

I could hear Rose talking softly to the discrete Bluetooth phone set over her ear and hidden by her hair.

"Sir, Rachel says Alicia is in tears and having a very loud tantrum because the soufflés have gone flat and she doesn't have time to make more before we get home."

"Tell her to inform chef that if her soufflés have indeed collapsed, she's fired."

"24 hours sir?"

"Yes, they're soufflés not unicorn steaks."

"I think they probably taste better than unicorns, sir."

"Even so."

Rose muttered into the phone.

"Rachel says Alicia is now very happy."

"Excellent."

Raine was staring at me as if I had turned into a snake.

"Who are you?"

"What you mean, 'who'm I'? You know me. Still me." I lapsed back into the speech of my youth: a youth where I met an amazingly beautiful woman at college; a woman who would tease me about my way of speaking, but loved me, nevertheless; a woman who married me and bore me two children while I worked just as hard as I could for them; a woman who took up with a man with higher status than me, and then conspired with him to take everything away from me; a woman who had failed spectacularly in that ambition.

"You fired a Michelin star chef and she is very happy about that? You must be a monster if she's happy to be fired."

From the front, I heard Rose snigger. I was going to have to speak to her about that. I couldn't have my employees listening in and...

"She's happy because now she'll be sleeping with sir for a whole day." Rose always had a tendency to say too much. More punishment was due, I decided. I told Rose that. She seemed very excited to hear it.

"But you fired her," Raine cut in.

"Please, sir! Oh, please can I explain?" Rose begged.

"Oh, all right, very well then," I said.

"Sir can't sleep with an employee. That would be very bad, and people might say that he is harassing his employees. Sir would never do that, and would never allow an employee to harass him, either. But if someone is fired and happened to still live in the house and managed to find their way into his bed, then who could cry harassment?

"That's why Alicia is so happy for being fired. Although not as happy as she will be tomorrow morning.

"But he spanked you right in front of me. That's assault."

"It's part of my contract, so when I screw up, I do know the consequences."

"Are you stupid, allowing that to be part of an employment contract?" Raine said, seething at the thought.

"How very dare you?" Rose hissed back. "You have no idea how hard I had to negotiate to get that clause put in."

"...Oh." I think Raine was going into overload.

Luckily, we drew up to my front gate.

The two exquisite ladies at the gate smiled widely. I smiled back. Dressed in dark blue uniforms with mid-thigh-length skirts and carefully cut jackets, they looked like they had just stepped out of a sorority. In actuality, both of them could kill a man in fourteen different ways, and that was without using the discreet automatics they each carried alongside their left breast, and the smaller model that somehow strapped to a thigh under the skirt. I had inspected the latter holsters on several very pleasant occasions, and still didn't understand how they stayed up. But I knew how much they enjoyed my puzzlement and frequent investigations to try and solve the mystery.

Following routine, I lowered my window and Abigail put her head through to examine the inside of the car. She looked at Raine.

"Has Mrs Fontaine been checked for weapons, sir?"

I looked at Raine. She was dressed in her black bra and panties. There didn't seem to be anywhere she might be carrying a weapon, but she hadn't actually been checked...

"Not yet, Abi."

"Yes, Sir." She slid a hand under her jacket. "Mrs Fontaine, kindly exit the car immediately!"

Laura, her partner at the gate, had silently slid up to the other door, and at Abi's instruction, yanked opened the door so that Raine was in full view of both of them. Neither of them ever took any chances with my safety, and she, too, had her hand on the butt of her automatic.

Raine's eyes were huge. She looked at me. I looked back.

"Mrs Fontaine. Out of the car! Now!" Abi's tone had become much more immediate. I hoped there wouldn't be any gunplay.

Raine hopped out of the car as if she had been goosed. Laura directed her into the gatehouse.

I cupped Abi's cheek. "Thank you, dear."

She nuzzled my palm. "Always a pleasure, sir," she whispered.

"I think incommunicado would be best."

She nodded.

Raine's security check didn't take long, although it was probably more intense than the body search most visitors underwent. My security team had also seen the picture with the darts stuck in it.

She reappeared after a few minutes, looking flushed and dishevelled, trying to adjust her bra and panties at the same time.

Laura put her head in the car. "No weapons or listening devices, sir. She's clean. Although perhaps not quite as much as she was before the check. She got a little hot... under the collar. We confiscated her phone, as you requested."

"You sure she's clean?" I teased her.

"Sir," she sounded wounded and distressed that I might doubt her professionalism, but I saw the twinkle in her eye. "We always do a thorough job. We checked everywhere."

"Everywhere?"

"Twice, sir."

"Good job. Too bad. I was looking forward to firing the pair of you."

Her eyes widened with pleasure, but then she looked sad. "You can't fire us until Siobhan and Sheena get back from Japan and take the other shift."

"Damn all annual leave. I was daft to allow you all four weeks holiday, just so you can swan off to foreign climes and desert me," I declared.

"You did give them the keys for your house there, so I don't think you can complain too much."

I cupped her cheek, and she nuzzled my palm, the same way Abi had. It was something they had seen Rachel and I do, and the little gesture of affection had spread amongst the staff quicker than the president reaching for his phone to tweet after his daily scandal surfaced.

Hey, it made all of us happy. All my staff members were extremely well paid, but it seemed they didn't stay with me and enjoy my little foibles, just for the money. They enjoyed the salary, of course, but they also really liked the work, the life, the travel, the meeting and greeting with the rich and the schmoozing with the famous. It was a fun way to live.

For some reason I could never fathom, they really liked me. Rachel had joined me first, when I had spontaneously offered her my new house as a hide-out from the paparazzi after an incident at a party I'd been invited to -- probably by accident. I remembered how I'd blushed crimson at my blurting out the invitation in a moment of incredibly stupid impulsivity, but to my astonishment, the actress had considered my offer, while looking me over, and then nodded. She stayed over at the house in one of the guest rooms for a night, which became another night. Then, on one enchanted evening, she had joined me in my bed and both of us had found a lot of pleasure together. I must have done something right, as somehow, she had still been there the next night and the next and the one after that. Eventually, all those next nights turned into weeks. Gradually, she had taken over the running of my house whenever she wasn't on set or in rehearsals, and she had brought the others into my employ, simply declaring they were what I needed and I should just put up with it.

I really liked Rachel, loved her, in fact, and she got fired more often than any of the others -- none of whom minded. I think she vetted all the girls she brought in very, very carefully. Make of that what you will. I know I thought about that a lot. Until she showed me. And then I just enjoyed the hell out of it.

As a consequence, from being a cast out cuckold, with my children out of my reach, I had found a large, varied and loving family.

Of course, the fact that I'd had a number of inventions in my mind when I was thrown out of my family business by my cheating, lying bitch of a wife and her pet cunt -- who took everything from me -- had helped a lot to get me back on my feet. Within a year of first living in a cardboard box, with only the belly-stabbing pain of betrayal and the desire for revenge as my companions, I had registered twenty-seven patents, and licensed them to several very happy companies. That betrayal, that theft of my life -- and the time spent in that old washing machine box -- had thrown my mind into a whirl of innovative ideas. They poured out in a tsunami of invention. I had no money to actually get the patents registered, but the lawyer who had always dealt with my company was loyal to me, and worked on a no-win, no-fee basis. His firm did the paperwork for me, setting the patents up as owned by a company of which I was the only shareholder, with the deal that I would pay them on receiving my first payments. He had not only loyalty, he had belief in me.

In return, over the next three years, I made him and his firm very wealthy, and in the process of doing that, became fabulously wealthy myself.

Nice, huh?

My first priority had been to see my children again. A discrete, but large donation to their school had enabled that -- although once again it was Rachel who had negotiated and secured it for me. When she let loose that world-famous smile, so familiar from the silver screen, people melted in every direction and rushed to fulfil her slightest whim.

There was no actual court order that kept me from my children, so it wasn't illegal, but my faithless ex-wife and her asswipe husband could have got one within an hour if they'd known -- and then used the kids to hound me for money or whatever else they could squeeze from this lemon. The children agreed never to speak of me. They were just so happy to see me that Carrie and Jon would have promised me the moon in order to keep my visits going. I never took them from the school premises, but they suddenly had a whole raft of after-school sports and cultural activities that they signed up for. It didn't surprise me when Raine and Asswipe agreed to all of their requests. They were just happy they didn't have to do anything except fetch them from school late in the afternoon. After a while, even that got put off onto obliging neighbours and the parents of Carrie's and Jon's friends.

When I asked my wife what marks Carrie had got, I knew what the answer was. I was there at the prize-giving ceremony the school held at the end of each term. I was there. They weren't. She had no idea what and how the kids were doing. The children thought it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen when I turned up in disguise the first few times, wary that Raine might turn up unexpectedly. In fact, they laughed so hard they were put in detention by a well-meaning teacher for 'making fun of the 'poor disabled man.' I spent that detention with them, helping them with their maths and science homework. They loved it.

I no longer bothered with a disguise, safe in the knowledge that Raine and Buttsuck had far more important things to do on their business and social calendars than attend to her children. My children.

The car drew up to the house and entered the plain garage, empty but for a few tools and oil cans. The door closed behind us, and I sighed with pleasure. I loved my garage.

Raine let out a shriek when the car suddenly started to descend after Rose pushed a button on the dashboard. The floor of the garage dropped smoothly and quietly, and on reaching the bottom, Rose drove us off the lift and parked smoothly in the designated slot.

Michaela looked up from beneath the hood of the Mustang, and her beautiful face held a beaming smile of welcome. The smile disappeared when she saw my passenger.

Rose promptly hopped out and opened my door, reminding me that she had interfered in my business and according to her contract...

I agreed to schedule her punishment for that evening. When I said that, her eyes closed and her legs wobbled slightly. I cupped her cheek for a nuzzle, and guided Raine into the passenger lift. She kept making the doors reopen by looking out for a closer look when she spotted yet another classic car.

"Is that a Rolls-Royce?" she asked, her eyes huge.

"Yeah, Mick Jagger sell it to me, say he grow too old for all 'at crap. He a gran'pa now and don't need it."

Again she looked at me as if I was an alien.

"How... when... what... You can't have won the lottery; we would have heard."

"Listenin' out for me, huh? Din't want cuck-man to find his feet widout you gettin' claws back in me, yeah?"

She blushed. "No, I was... concerned for your well-being."