The Making of a Mistress Ch. 01

"How much would Sir like to leave as a deposit?" she asked diplomatically.

Charles took out his wallet and pulled his credit card out.

"I'll pay in full now, if that's alright with you," he said. "I'm afraid maths isn't my strong subject. If I paid a deposit, it'd take me till Saturday to work out the balance!"

Marie didn't bother to remark on the fact that Charles worked for a merchant bank, but smiled weakly at the shop assistant, who took the proffered card and said,

"Pay in full? That'll do nicely, Sir."

The sarcasm was totally lost on Charles.

When he picked Marie up later that night, Charles seemed rather subdued. Marie asked him if everything was alright, and he hesitated before answering.

"When I dropped you off for work," he said, "I went straight home and telephoned Mummy and Father to tell them the good news. I asked about coming down to see them and to introduce you to them."

His voice cracked, and he dried up completely. Marie thought he seemed on the verge of tears.

"If they don't want to meet me, that's up to them" she said angrily. "I'm marrying you, not them!"

"Anyway," she continued, smiling encouragingly at Charles, "I bet you my mother won't bother to get in touch with me either. I 'phoned her during my break, and it went straight to answerphone. I left her a message, but I haven't heard anything back, and I'm not going to hold my breath till one arrives!"

Charles tried to smile, and almost succeeded.

"I got the impression that Mummy and Father want to meet you," he said, "but it doesn't seem to be very high on their list of priorities. They know I can only visit on weekends, and Mummy told me her diary was full for the next fortnight!"

"What's your mother's job?" Marie asked.

"Job?" echoed Charles. "Mummy doesn't have a job! She was a Lady-in Waiting to someone in the Royal family for about twenty years, but she's never worked as such."

"Your mother worked for the Queen?" Marie couldn't believe her ears.

"No, not for the Queen," Charles smiled indulgently. He mentioned the name of one of the so-called 'lesser royals', but Marie was still very impressed.

Charles made sure that Marie was wearing her seat belt and then he pulled out into the road and drove carefully back to Marie's flat.

Remembering his instructions, as soon as they arrived directly outside her flat, he sprang out of the car and hurried to open Marie's door for her. He escorted her up the path, and took her key and opened the front door for her.

They kissed deeply on the front doorstep, and Marie complimented him on remembering all her instructions.

"I'd invite you in," she said, "but I'm knackered. We were short staffed tonight, so I had to wait table and run the bar as well. l'm going straight to bed. Thank goodness tomorrow is my day off."

Charles took her hand and kissed it gently.

"I really need you to know a lot more about me and my family before we go and introduce you to them," he said.

"If I book a table at a nice quiet restaurant for Saturday night, could you possibly get the night off?"

Marie thought for a moment.

"I'll ring Polly now," she said. "She's the restaurant manager. If I offer to work tomorrow, she might give me Saturday night off. Jessica will probably still be off sick tomorrow, so Polly was going to be really short staffed. You go ahead and book us a table, and I'll text you within half an hour to let you know if I can make it or not."

"Perfect," smiled Charles, kissing her again and encouraging her to get a good night's sleep. He skipped down the path, turned and waved at Marie, who blew him a kiss before going indoors and digging her phone out of her shoulder bag.

Polly was tremendously grateful that Marie was willing to fill in. She congratulated Marie on her engagement, and promised to give her Saturday night off.

Marie texted the good news to Charles, then stripped off and had a lovely warm shower. She crawled into bed, naked, and was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Saturday arrived, and so, at seven o' clock precisely, did Charles. Polly had phoned early that morning to say that they were still short staffed, and as a result, Marie had done the lunch time service, but had been excused clean down and prep for evening service by the restaurant manager.

She'd texted Charles to tell him that she'd had to go in after all at lunchtime, but not to worry, that she'd be ready and waiting for him. He'd replied, informing her of pick-up time, and reassuring her that he would collect her engagement ring.

He was as good as his word, and when she answered the doorbell, she found him on the front doorstep, down on one knee, proffering the ring in an open box.

Before she could say anything, he said loudly and clearly, "Marie, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?" and adding sotto voce with a huge grin, "and take control of me and train me to become your slave?"

Marie pulled him to his feet, kissed him and offered the third finger of her left hand. Charles slipped the ring on. It fitted perfectly and she squealed in delight.

"Oh Charles, it's beautiful! Thank you so much. Yes of course I'll marry you."

"And I have some news for you on the training front too," she whispered as she locked the front door and turned to face him.

"Your carriage awaits, my Lady," said Charles, offering his arm. They walked arm in arm down the path, and Charles opened the passenger door of the car with a bow.

Marie got in and Charles shut the door and walked round and got in behind the wheel. He looked at Marie.

"Unless you have an awful lot to tell me," he began, "I suggest that you start, because what I have to tell you about my family and me will probably take much longer."

"You give me your news first, and I'll tell you mine over dinner."

"That sounds good to me," replied Marie, clicking her seat belt into its holder. She grinned at him. She had been waiting most of the afternoon and early evening to tell him of the conversation she'd had with the woman she now knew as Dr Sara Walters.

"I hope you are ready for this," she told him, "because what I am about to tell you is going to change the nature of our relationship, and form the basis of our married life together!"

Charles grinned at her.

"I think it may have started already," he confessed. "Ever since you said you'd marry me and start to rule my life, I keep getting stiffies at the most unexpected times."

"Have you got one now?" Marie asked, and when, blushing furiously, Charles nodded, she reached over to feel it. The car swerved dangerously, and an on-coming taxi flashed its headlights, and the driver gave Charles the finger.

"Oops! Sorry!" Charles giggled, pulling the car back onto the correct side of the road.

"Not half as sorry as me!" thought Marie, as she drew her hand away. His 'stiffie' as he called it couldn't have been much more than three inches. Her rabbit vibrator was bigger than that, for fuck's sake!

Marie thought back to this afternoon's telephone conversation with Dr Sara and vowed to learn everything she could from this experienced woman. She looked at Charles, who was still grinning like an idiot, although he was back concentrating on driving safely and within the speed limit.

"That customer I told you about the other day?" Marie began, "she rang me this afternoon. We had a long chat, and I'm meeting her tomorrow."

"For fuck's sake Charles," she yelled, as the car swerved again, "it would be nice if we both survived this journey and actually managed to get married!"

It was a sign of how far they had already progressed that Charles didn't tut or make a complaint about Marie's language. He merely apologised for scaring Marie, and assured her that he would concentrate for the rest of the journey.

"Where are you meeting this doctor?" he asked, and Marie mentioned a coffee shop in a town about twenty miles away.

"It's about half way between where she lives and here," Marie said, "and I've booked a taxi already."

"There was no need to do that," Charles protested. "Why don't you cancel it and I'll drive you there. It would be nice to meet the person who is going to mentor you."

"Dr Sara said that for this initial meeting, I should come alone," Marie answered. She saw Charles's look of disappointment, but was pleased when he made no further comment. She'd be able to tell Dr Sara that her husband-to-be was already accepting what she said was going to be the norm.

"I am going to be your HotWife," Marie said with a grin.

"Dr Sara has promised to explain to me all the implications of what that means tomorrow. It seems that this 'lifestyle' as she called it can be lived at several levels, depending on how much the participants want to engage with it."

"As long as it means I can wear a pretty frock every now and then, and put on some make-up and serve you, then I'll be happy," Charles said with a smile.

"I have no experience of this HotWife lifestyle as you call it, but I'm really looking forward to learning how to live it. With you, of course, as my lovely, pretty HotWife!"

Marie smiled and hugged herself, remembering the shock and the thrill she got when Dr Sara had revealed to her that night in the restaurant that she was there with her cross dressing sissy husband and her lover to celebrate her wedding anniversary.

Not only had she been told that Dr Sara was going to go home after the meal to be fucked by her lover whilst her husband watched, but she'd made her husband show their waitress the device that he, no, sorry, she, was wearing around her cock!

As she remembered this Marie was conscious of a deliciously warm feeling between her legs. She smiled to herself as she thought of how much fun being a HotWife was going to be!

Marie did a double take when they drove into the car park of the place that Charles had booked for their meal.

"This is..." she stuttered, unable to get her words out coherently.

"It is indeed," Charles smiled, "because nowhere else would have done for me to take my fiancée for a meal to celebrate our engagement."

Marie was awe struck. This private dining club was the latest venture of a well-known television chef, and he was still the only chef in the area who had earned two Michelin stars.

The dining room was beautifully appointed with a mere four tables in the whole room. Charles smiled at Marie.

"I booked the whole room," he said, "so we can talk in private without the risk of being overheard."

Marie's head was spinning. It must have cost a fortune. Charles sensed what she was thinking.

"Don't worry, I can afford it," he said casually. "I brokered a deal between a Saudi sheik and the Ministry of Defence last week. If needs be, I won't need to make any more deals until the new year!"

They were shown to their table and menus were presented. Marie was spoilt for choice, but eventually they decided on the tasting menu between them. It consisted of ten courses, with an appropriate wine for eight of the plates of food.

Charles declined his wine selection on the grounds that he was driving, and ordered a glass of very expensive Medoc instead, which he said would last him until the pudding arrived.

When the waiter had taken their order and left, Charles reached across the table and took Marie's hand. He kissed it tenderly.

"You've told me your news," he said, stroking her hand. "Now I have to tell you about my family."

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Mummy comes from German stock, going back about four generations," he began, "and Father's ancestors hail from Tennessee in America. Both families came to England in the early eighteenth century, and as such are completely English by now. But all succeeding generations have been made aware of their origins."

"Father met Mummy when he was a captain in the Household cavalry. His company was doing guard duty at Buckingham Palace when Mummy was being presented at the Debutantes Ball."

"They didn't see each other for years after that, but when Mummy was Lady-in-Waiting to Princess Alice, they met again. Mummy had to have the Princess's permission to marry Father!"

"She had to leave her royal duties to get married," continued Charles, "and when Father had done his thirty years, he left the army and followed his father, Grandpappa Geoffrey into the bank."

"Fucking hell!" thought Marie, "I'm marrying into a family used to privilege, power and influence. I wonder how they are going to cope with the daughter of an ex-pat bar owner and a supermarket check-out girl?"

"Mummy stays at home now, does some charity work and organises the local Women's Institute," Charles continued.

"And Father goes into the bank a couple of times a month, but his main job these days is to take the bank's potential investors and clients around the golf course."

By this time, they had reached the sorbet course between the fish and the first of the meat courses. It was delicious, and cleansed the palate wonderfully.

After their first meat course of goujons of corn-fed chicken had been served, Marie asked if Charles's parents approved of their son and heir marrying such a commoner as her.

He blushed, and she feared the worst.

Mummy couldn't believe that someone was prepared to take me on!" he confessed.

"I don't know what Father thinks, because Mummy said that she'd tell him for me. And I haven't seen him since telling Mummy!"

"Why do you refer to her as 'Mummy'?" Marie asked. "It's very 1950s!"

"That's how Mummy likes to be addressed," Charles replied, "and I think that she'll expect you to call her that after we're married."

"Well she can go and bloody whistle!" retorted Marie. "I have one mother, who I call mum, and one father, who I call Gordon."

"When I meet your parents, I'll call them Mr and Mrs North-Thompkins until we're properly introduced, and then I'll call them by their Christian names."

Charles didn't comment on this statement. He contented himself by telling Marie that "Mummy is very much looking forward to meeting you."

The rest of the meal passed in fairly quick time. They declined brandy with their coffee, and were back in the car by a quarter past ten. On the way home, Marie, who had drunk a glass of the recommended wine with each course suddenly had an idea.

"Charles, take the next left," she instructed.

"That's not the way home," chuckled Charles, thinking that Marie was feeling the effect of eight glasses of wine.

"Don't argue, Charles," snapped a perfectly sober Marie. "I thought I told you that I'm making the decisions now."

"Yes, yes of course you are," stammered Charles. " I was just worried that maybe you felt unwell after all those different wines."

He signalled and turned left as he'd been instructed.

"Those weren't full measures," Marie said scornfully. "I'm a waitress, remember?"

"They give you less than half a measure to go with each course of a tasting menu. Just as each course is little more than a mouthful or two, so each recommended wine is just enough to compliment that particular plate of food."

"Um... where exactly are we going?" asked Charles five minutes later.

"I think I'm lost!"

"Take the next left, and go down the track into the forest," Marie directed.

Charles obeyed, and after another five minutes, the track opened out into a clearing. Marie noted with some satisfaction that there were three cars parked there already. All were in darkness, but Marie bet herself that the drivers were all behind their wheels waiting for the action to start.

"Drive into the centre of the clearing," she told Charles and switch off your engine.

Charles did as he was told, and looked at Marie without saying a word. She grinned at him.

"Wait here," she said, "and don't move. I'll be back in a minute!"

To Charles's amazement, Marie got out of the car and walked over to one of the three other parked cars in the clearing. He watched as she seemed to be chatting to the driver.

Marie lifted her hand to wave to the driver of the car as she made her way across the clearing to the second car. She also appeared to be chatting to the driver of this vehicle.

When Marie went over to the last car, and bent down to talk to the driver, Charles was totally lost. He knew that Marie hadn't known their dinner destination, so how the hell had she arranged for her three friends to be parked here, waiting for her?

He thought maybe he'd get an answer soon, as Marie seemed to have finished her conversation, and was heading back to him. She beckoned him out of the car.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Who are those people?"

Marie grinned at him.

"I remembered about this place as we were driving home," she said. "It's a well-known dogging area. These three men have all driven here on the off chance of meeting someone who will either let them watch as they have sex, or, in some cases, let them join in!"

Charles looked horrified and Marie quickly reassured him.

"Don't worry, Charles," she smiled sweetly, " everyone present here at the moment is going to keep his cock inside his trousers. What I've just offered these three gentlemen is a ring side seat to witness you getting your first spanking from me!"

Charles's face broke into a huge grin.

"And they'll stay in their cars to watch?" he asked hopefully.

"That's the deal," Marie replied, lifting her arm in a signal to all three drivers that the action was about to begin. Three sets of headlights were turned on, transforming the dark clearing into a floodlight arena.

Marie giggled as she turned back to Charles.

"I should warn you though, these headlights are a dead giveaway. This place will be packed out soon, and I haven't made any deals to prevent late arrivals from joining in!"

Charles looked horrified. "We'd better get on with it, then, he said, removing his jacket and lowering his trousers.

"And your underpants," Marie said sternly, "although we're so far away from any of these cars that the drivers will have some difficulty seeing that little thimble that you call your cock!"

Charles did as he was told, with a very red face, and Marie thought that his little cock twitched a bit in response to the situation he found himself in.

"Get over the bonnet," she instructed, and placed herself in position to begin her spanking.

She raised her hand and brought it down sharply on Charles's right arse cheek.

SLAP!

He didn't react. She repeated her action, this time striking his left cheek.

SLAP!

Again no reaction.

She decided on a longer, more intense assault.

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

As the sixth slap landed, Charles gave a low moan. His breathing was becoming ragged.

Marie's hand was red and hot from her exertions.

"This is bloody hard work!" she thought to herself. "l must remember to ask Sara how I can avoid a sore hand. l certainly am enjoying this! Let's see how Charles is reacting."

"Stand up," she said sternly, and Charles stood to attention, as did his miniscule cock. He smiled warmly at Marie.

"It's working!" he said joyfully, "look, I've got a real stiffy!"

Marie glanced down, and confirmed that Charles was indeed sporting a proper hard-on, although, even in this condition, he barely exceeded three inches.

On impulse, she back-handed his cock which bobbed up and down. Charles sucked his breath in sharply and thrust his hips forward, giving Marie a much easier target. She repeated her action, and Charles groaned.

"Mmm! That stings!" he croaked. "Please do it again. Harder!"

Marie obliged, and then seeing something on the ground in the car's headlights, she bent down and picked up a twig from the floor. It was about the length of two pencils laid end to end, and approximately the same thickness.

Grinning at Charles, she rapped him smartly on his tiny pink helmet. He hissed in pain, and then smiled at her.