The Manor Ch. 01: Awakening

I lowered my head into my hand with a groan, cradling it with trembling fingers, trying to stop the incessant pounding. As the morning light streamed under the gazebo it felt like it burned my retinas, and I just wanted to screw my eyes tight shut, but the beautifully maintained gardens and the overbearing mansion buildings around me held far too much intrigue.

I had to blink, and stare, as I struggled to assemble the events of last night that resulted in me now being here. A gull shrieked loudly as it flew overhead, making my trembling body almost jump out of its skin. My heart pounded now as much as my head. My chest heaved as I gasped for air, on the brink of hyper-ventilation.

I didn't know this place or why I was here but, through my apprehension, I could still feel impressed and appreciate the opulence of my surroundings. Marco, well that's what guy I met through the on-line dating app said his name was, had mentioned in passing a certain amount of wealth in his family. Had he brought me here last night? Was this place his family home? His wealth was an extra bonus I hadn't anticipated when I'd swiped right.

Of course I accepted his invite to cocktails at the private club he had membership of. Of course I was impressed how everyone seemed to know my date, even fawn over him. Of course it bolstered my recently dented confidence when he told me I was the most beautiful company he'd enjoyed in ever such a long time. And of course I'd love another of those exotic drinks before we ordered dinner!

Suddenly I felt like a starry-eyed teenager, seeing her favourite band in concert, in the flesh, for the first time. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the surroundings, or both, but he was really getting to me, really pushing all my right buttons. Unashamedly I let my fingers drop to this muscular thigh and slide higher as he ordered the second round of drinks, and squeezed my nylon covered thighs tightly together, squirming as I felt a moistness between my legs.

I recalled only blurry images after that. There was no memory of dinner. Instead, only brief moments of consciousness through a drug-induced stupor allowed me vague flashbacks of being dragged through dimly-lit corridors only ever used by staff; of a squalid back alley as numerous pairs of hands bundled my helpless, listless body into a limo; of streetlamps flashing past as we were driven out of town; of a helicopter and views of the city lights from above; then the ocean, and finally an island, a small, remote, totally isolated island.

I didn't remember seeing him since cocktails, and hadn't seen anyone since I'd come round. And still no one was in sight now as I nervously peered around, sitting in the morning sun, in last night's clothes. I was pleased at least that I'd dressed well, my classy-slutty look suited this place, I decided. But it would seem that was the only good decision I'd made recently.

Footsteps suddenly broke my thoughts, the sound of expensive high heels on the concrete patio increasing slowly in volume as they approached, penetrating my throbbing head. My attention was drawn to the slim, statuesque, elegant blonde. Mid-thirties I guessed, oozing wealth and class, her French plait blonde hair neatly pinned, make-up impeccable and subtle, her long black satin and lace dress shimmering in the morning sun. I watched and listened as she spoke with eloquence and a formal, business-like tone,

"Ah, you're awake, Tatusia. Excellent. Welcome to my little home." in an accent I decided was of familiar eastern European origin. "I see that my cousin's taste remains impeccable," she continued, the host's piercing blue eyes examining my body as she calmly, gently spoke, "but I think his description of you does not do you justice, my dear."

All of my gasped questions and babbled protests, about how she knew my name, where I was and why I was here, all seemed to fall on deaf ears. Instead of answers, two perfectly manicured fingers were pressed to my lips, stopping me mid-sentence. She must have seen the fear in my eyes as they blinked up at the elegant blonde, mesmerised, the scent of luxurious eau de parfum filing my nostrils as the Lady of the Manor talked over me. But could she see how awestruck I was by her too? How her confidence and obvious class excited me, albeit nervous, apprehensive excitement? Would I even have admitted it to myself if I couldn't feel a familiar moistness again seep through my lace panties?

"Shush, questions later, girl. Now, we have business. You have quite a gathering. It wouldn't do to keep your audience waiting longer. Some very important and busy people are here to meet you."

Her tone was dismissive, arrogant, even patronising. Her facial expression neutral as she turned, her long gown twirling around her long, slim legs as, with a loud click of her fingers she sternly commanded,

"Follow me. There's a good girl."

As I stood, my head was spinning, logic telling me I needed to run, to escape, somehow. But how? While those words, "good girl" sent a spasm shooting deep inside me, my body betraying me as I positively dripped, craving to hear them again.

So I followed her on trembling legs, with an obedience I didn't know was previously in me, and certainly no one had ever witnessed in all my twenty years. And like a puppy following an unfamiliar master to its new kennel, I stumbled into a new chapter of my life I couldn't yet even start to comprehend.

(to be continued)