Jane picked up the phone, and once again the line went dead. She thought it was odd. There had been several calls over the last week, and the caller had always hung up. When she’d dialled the number to discover who had called, the message was always that “the caller had withheld their number.” She shrugged and put it down to a “survey” or some other marketing ploy and thought no more about the calls.

The next day as she was sitting in her room, working, the doorbell rang. She got up to answer it and had got to the top of the stairs when her Master opened it. Standing on the step was a tall, blonde woman. She was slim and elegantly dressed. She smiled and threw herself into Angus’s arms, winding her arms around his neck. Kissing him, she said, “At last, Angus, my love.”

Jane watched as the woman linked her arms behind his neck and kissed him soundly on the lips. It was what Jane had always feared would happen and now it had. All her original doubts came back. How could he not prefer her to Jane, with her less than perfect legs, and her plump hips? She was younger than Jane and so slim and beautiful. Who will want me? she had thought as she entered the club for the first time. What did she have to offer compared to the blonde? Jane was devastated. She saw him hold on to the woman. That was enough to confirm what she felt. He wanted the blonde. What man in his right mind wouldn’t choose her over an older, less beautiful woman? Jane turned and somehow made one foot follow the other back up the few stairs she had just descended. Stunned, she held on tight to the bannister rail and somehow got herself up the last stairs. She was out of breath. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart beat twenty to the dozen, and the blood pounded in her ears. What was she going to do now? He had collared her, but collars could be removed. He had asked her to marry him, but they were not married yet. Her world, that she had thought so secure, was falling apart. Who was this woman? She called him “her love,” and he held her in his arms. She was young, more beautiful. Jane’s worst nightmare had come to pass.

Suddenly, she couldn’t stay in the house a minute longer. She had to get away. A sense of urgency invaded her and imbued her with strength, energy, and purpose. Grabbing a bag from the wardrobe, she threw clothes into it, jeans, sweaters, shirts, underwear. In the bathroom she swept her toiletries into the vanity case he had bought her in Madrid, and a sob caught in her throat.

Not now! she thought to herself. You must get away. There’s no time now. You can cry later.

She repeated that to herself over and over as she grabbed her handbag and car keys, took the bag with her clothes and crept down the stairs. She couldn’t face him, them yet.

She heard muted voices from the living room as she gained the front door. The living room door was closed. She couldn’t hear what was being said, and they couldn’t see her. Opening the front door, she went out, closed it softly, and looked back at the house.

A beautiful silver-gray Mercedes was parked next to her car. She noticed saddle-stitched leather seats. It looked expensive and elegant like its owner, all the things Jane was not. She bit her lip and got into her car. It was a bright-red Hyundai i30. He had surprised her with it when her old car had broken down. He had taken the old one in for repairs, and it never came back. This appeared in its place, a car she’d admired once in a car park. He’d said her old car was dangerous and not worth repairing. She didn’t want to get into the car because it brought back too many memories of him, but she simply had to get away. She got in the car, reversed, and didn’t put her seat belt on in her haste. She heard the front door open, and he called her name.

She spun the tyres in her haste to get away and pressed the accelerator as she drove fast for the gates, hoping he’d not have time to go in the house and close them remotely. She shot out of the gate. Relief that he hadn’t got the gates closed flooding her, she turned the car left. The large lorry coming from her right stood no chance of stopping.

She felt, or sensed, or just knew he was home and watching her. She didn’t look to see, just decided to put on a show for him. “Puttin’ on the Style” was one of her favourite songs, and she was going to do just that and drive the watcher wild. Playing to her audience, she dipped and swayed and ran her hands suggestively up and down her body, almost but not quite caressing her breasts. She took the towel in both hands and ran it up and down her back as if drying off after a shower and hoped he was enjoying his show and that it was having the desired effect. She was not as supple as she used to be but knew keeping moving was important, and this she was really enjoying. Gyrating her hips and shaking her bottom, she put plates to warm and was arranging cutlery and glasses on the table when two large hands gripped her waist. They moved up and cupped her breasts then tweaked her nipples, and her arousal burgeoned. It never ceased to amaze her how easily he aroused her and made her blood sing in her veins. He just had to touch her anywhere, and she was as putty in his hands. Her knees turned weak, and the flames licked and danced from breasts to cunt, and her nipples hardened under his firm caresses, making her pussy flood and her clit swollen and needy in anticipation. She realised he was just as affected as she had intended with her teasing. His hands trembled. “I need to be inside you now!” He growled. Slowly he unbuttoned the top of her dress. She felt him tense. Then he spun her round into a fierce embrace. His tongue invaded her mouth as her lips parted to welcome him in. As he kissed her witless, his fingers played with her breasts, by now bare and aching, pinching and pulling at the nipples and she moaned. His erection pulsed against her pussy, and he ground himself against her. Being in a suit, he was more confined, so she reached down and stroked his cock, and his kiss became even more urgent. She had no intention of making him wait. She needed him inside her just as badly.

“Can you turn that pan off?”

She tested the rice and said it could rest now, then she covered it and let him lead her. He could wait no longer, and he hurried her up the stairs to their room, tearing off his suit as she took off her apron, dress and bra and stood to wait his direction.

“Kneel on the bed.” His voice was low and breathy.

She knelt, and he stood behind her, finding her cunt with his fingers. She was even wetter now, and he stroked her G-spot, driving her wild with his fingers soaked in her cream. He took them out of her and licked them clean, groaning his appreciation of their taste.

“Your taste is like honey,” he said.

He gripped her hips tightly, and standing between her thighs, he entered her. She had expected him to take her fast and hard, and he did. He entered her, giving her his full delicious length in one hard thrust, lifting her knees off the bed in his urgency, but he held her safe in his hands, so she didn’t fall forward as she otherwise might have done. He withdrew all the way out and slammed all the way home again, his huge balls slapping against her, and she sighed in contentment.

“Stay on your knees, put your shoulders on the bed. Rest your head on your arms.”

She’d explained that it was the most comfortable position for her when he wanted her visible submission. Still kneeling, she complied, and he fucked her then, hard and fast and urgent. She gasped as he hammered his cock into her time after time and moaned as it slid along her G-spot. She loved this position. It gave her more intense pleasure as he varied the angle of his thrusts. He leaned over her and played with her breast with one hand, pulling and pinching at the nipple and nipping at her neck with his teeth. His weight on her felt so good. One arm was around her, playing with the breast he could reach, even as it was pressed to the bed. His other hand was on her hip. His hand on her breast sent jolts of pleasure to her cunt which gushed with moisture.

“Did you get what you wanted? Teasing me like that! Naughty little darling. We’ve not had a session in the playroom lately. I need to spank this delicious arse, and you are due a spanking anyhow.”

So saying, he removed his hand from her breast and gently bit, first one globe of her bottom, then the other as she squeaked.

“We will go up early tonight and spend a happy hour there.”

“Yes, please, Master. I’d like that. ”

He began to pump in and out of her again and leaned over to rub his fingers between the puffy folds of her outer lips until he found her clit, swollen and needy.