Fresh Meat

Victoria eased herself into her comfortable office chair, an aromatic cup of coffee steaming nearby. Still dressed in her silky nightdress, she felt more rested after the failures of the previous day. Her suite was the mirror image of Angie’s, but the large room had been split into a more intimate windowless bedroom and an adjoining office with a large window.

She booted up the computer on her desk and briefly checked her e-mail. Sure enough, she found some messages in her spam folder related to the previous day’s failed deal. Well, it was too late now, she sighed.

Interested to see how her newest pet had been doing in her absence, Victoria logged into the security system. She watched the view from various angles as Angie got up the morning Victoria had left on her business trip and realised the door was locked. She watched with satisfaction as Janik curtailed Angie’s initial attempts at freedom with a minimum of damage and the inevitable sulk which followed.

Victoria watched at high speed as Angie spent the day alternately sitting and lying in bed. On reaching the next morning, she slowed down as things got interesting. The girl’s stubborn refusal to eat any food was troubling, but Victoria considered that Miriam was hardly the most diplomatic person, so it was unsurprising. She was sure Angie would eat when hunger became too much.

It was fascinating watching the girl react to her situation through the many eyes of the hidden cameras mounted throughout her suite. Victoria purred with satisfaction as the tiny camera concealed in the mirrored doors of the wardrobe, appearing like a speck of dirt to the casual observer, captured Angie admiring herself in her new Lycra sports clothes. Victoria congratulated herself that their purchase had definitely been a worthy choice.

Victoria watched with intense curiosity as the girl sat down on the rug, a clock in front of her, her hands in her lap, closed her eyes and remained like that for the best part of an hour. What was she doing? Sleeping in the sitting position? Meditating? She even seemed to ignore Miriam as she walked in and out, the maid's lips sneering as usual.

After fast-forwarding to a point where Angie finally got up, she watched as the girl searched the room, the drawers, cupboards and wardrobes, not taking anything out, just looking. Victoria wasn’t sure what she was looking for but was reasonably confident that none of the hidden cameras had been discovered.

Angie seemed to spend the rest of the day stretching and exercising, which was pleasant to watch but quickly became tedious. Eventually, the girl tired of such activities and began trying on the outfits in the wardrobe which Victoria had carefully selected for her. She sighed with pleasure, and her hand slipped between her legs as she watched the girl model outfit after outfit. Victoria suddenly regretted having to run off to attend to urgent matters of business when she could have been watching her newest pet perform for her.

As the floor show came to an end, Victoria tuned back the recording to watch it again in the hope that she could bring herself to climax on a second viewing. Furiously rubbing her clitoris, she deeply appreciated the sight of Angie dressed as a Japanese-style schoolgirl, a skimpily dressed nurse and a cheerleader. Perhaps it was the white hosiery which lent Angie an air of innocence which Victoria felt the overwhelming urge to break. It was that realisation which pushed her over the edge.

Recovering from her climax, Victoria sipped her coffee and watched with interest as Angie seemed more receptive to her new junior maid, Mary. For the first time, she listened in to the conversation and was pleased to hear that Mary had finally convinced Angie to eat and that there was no unwanted talk of escape.

Satisfied that everything had gone smoothly whilst she was on her business trip, Victoria decided that she would use Angie that night for her own sexual satisfaction.

---

Angie recoiled violently, woken as she was by a voice suddenly in her ears.

“Are you OK?” Mary’s nervous voice broke through Angie’s disorientation.

Angie tried to calm her rapid breathing, driven by the pounding of her heart. Memories of the previous evening filtered back to her like a waking nightmare. She compulsively clutched the satin sheet to her chest.

“Is he out there?” Angie stuttered.

“Who? Mr Janik?” Angie could only nod in response, trying to find calm somewhere in her scattered mind.

“No. Mrs McCarthy’s back, I think he’s only meant to watch things while she’s away.” Mary gave her a curious look. “Why? Did something happen?”

Angie calmed at the news that the giant wasn’t nearby. “Never mind.” She slumped back again and tried to wake up properly as she realised how sitting didn’t agree with the remaining soreness in her backside.

“Can I ask,” the timid maid’s voice intruded, “I feel embarrassed, but what should I call you?” Angie gave the maid a curious look. She obviously felt awkward asking. “Mrs McCarthy asked me to be the one to take care of you. I don’t want to keep coming in here not knowing; it would just get more and more embarrassing to ask. I mean, Mrs McCarthy called you ‘Angelica’. Is that really your name?”

“Angie,” she breathed, glad that she wouldn’t be seeing more of Miriam. “My friends call me Angie,” though she mentally reminded herself that she didn’t even have any of those any more. “Only my mum and Victoria call me ‘Angelica’.”

“It’s a beautiful name,” Mary conceded.

Angie thought about how Victoria had pointed out the same thing when they first met. Had she meant it, or was she just trying to woo her? She sat up to grace Mary with a helpless smile. “Thank you. Please call me Angie.”

Mary gave a comforting smile in return. “I still can’t stay. Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.” Mary urged as she headed for the door, her Irish accent thick and strangely motherly for someone who couldn’t be older than 21.

---

Angie apprehensively picked up a fork from the polished silver service before her. Late in the afternoon, Mary had arrived in her room, not with dinner, but with a dress for her to wear and the news that Victoria expected her company for dinner. Feeling unable to refuse, Angie had found appropriate underwear and presented herself properly dressed and made up for the next time the door opened.

She had quaked as her escort turned out to be Janik, but showing no signs of their previous altercation, he didn’t produce his taser and had merely directed her with gestures and broken words instead of a rough hand on her shoulder. The only reason Angie had found the courage to go with him was the fact that she knew it was Victoria who had summoned her.

As usual, the food was excellent despite the pain in Angie’s still-striped posterior. Unlike the meals they had shared at Albert Drive when they could speak to each other easily and in relaxed tones, Angie didn’t know where to start. She didn’t understand where she fitted in this new household and whether it would be rude to ask. Certainly, it was hard to start any kind of conversation after being kidnapped, whipped and sexually assaulted. What did Victoria expect of her? What had she done to provoke her wrath, and would it exacerbate matters to ask?

It didn’t take too long before the silence became too much for Angie. “Why am I here?” She managed eventually, her voice timid and quiet in the expansive dining room.

Victoria seemed amused by the question. “This is your home; where else would you be?”

Angie frowned at the answer, unsure if arguing would provoke a conflict that could have significant and physically painful ramifications. Even so, she had to know. “But I had a home, with my family.”

“This is your new home, and I am your new family,” Victoria answered breezily as if the situation was completely obvious.

“But what about my school, my friends?” she persisted.

“You don’t need any of them. Don’t you have a beautiful room, wonderful new clothes to wear,” she speared a morsel of food on her fork, “delicious food to eat?” Angie nodded, seeing she wasn’t going to make any headway on the subject.

“Cook will be pleased to hear that you appreciate her work,” Victoria pointed out.

“I am well fed,” Angie conceded, thinking that she would need to maintain her exercise routine if she didn’t want to get fat on all the fine food. Although her new diet was probably superior, she still longed for the familiar tastes and textures of her Mum’s cooking. She pushed the memory aside in an attempt to cope with her current situation. She considered asking after her family, but it seemed like a pointless effort.

“And the wine, how do you like that Angelica?” Victoria pointedly sipped from her own glass, and Angie felt shamed into following suit.

“I haven't really drank much real wine before," she looked down, not wanting to make eye contact, feeling outclassed and outgunned. "I have no idea what’s good and what’s bad.”

Taking her cue, Victoria launched into a detailed discourse on the basics of the different kinds of wine in the world, wine tasting, what to look for, what to sniff for, how to sample it and knowing when to reject it.

Angie listened, half interested, half wondering whether there would be questions later and how she might be punished if her answers were incorrect. In fact, the wine helped the evening flow more smoothly. Initially, she had been paranoid that her glass was drugged, but Miriam poured their drinks from the same bottle. Perhaps she just had a low tolerance for alcohol. It wasn’t like she had drunk much of anything alcoholic before, aside from the odd cheeky sherry from her grandma.

As evening faded into night, they retired to Angie’s suite. Victoria undressed the girl, opened the ‘kink’ cupboard and had her don the white leather ‘pet’ harness, collar, cuffs, leash and all. Angie wasn’t sure she wanted to cooperate. After all, so much had changed, but she was scared of what might happen if she didn’t, and it was a relief to surrender herself to Victoria for a pleasurable evening with her captor rather than one where she was beaten with sticks.

In the end, Victoria had bound her wrists to the centre of a metal bar that kept her ankles spread and her bum in the air. She had taken her captive powerfully in the doggie style with a strap-on harness, tugging on the leash intermittently to assert her dominance. It was a taste of the relationship they used to have, if at the extreme end of the spectrum. Although Angie allowed herself to enjoy the experience, the caning was never far away in her memory, and neither was Janik’s violation.

Victoria hadn’t bothered with a gag, explaining that there was no need to be quiet and that she wanted access to Angie’s mouth. In fact, Angie’s oral services were certainly required, both to debase herself by licking the dildo clean of her own juices and to lick Victoria to yet another orgasm. However, being a generous hostess and a little tipsy herself, the older woman gave the girl several climaxes of her own.

Being thoroughly restrained, Angie had little choice but to give and receive as Victoria’s whims required. Finally, the older woman shackled her wrists to the headboard at the end of a length of chain and pulled her into a spoon, seemingly to settle for the night.

Angie was in mute confusion. Victoria had given her pleasure and received it in return, but the previous night, she had subjected her to a merciless beating. How could she swing from such peaks of anger to the role of dominant lover? Had she forgiven Angie? Why had she been angry with her in the first place? Was it for going on hunger strike?

Most of all, Angie was afraid that the older woman would move to kiss her, and she wouldn’t know how to react. She was sure that as their tongues tangled, Victoria would know that she wasn’t as committed as she used to be and would be angry that the passion had gone from their relationship.

Unable to sleep and with her mind stuck on spin cycle, Angie finally plucked up her courage. “What did I do?” She asked in a half whisper to the darkness. “I mean, to make you so angry with me last night?”

In the silence that followed, Angie wondered if Victoria was asleep, but her cultured voice whispered her response almost directly into her ear. “A business deal I had been working on for a while fell through.” There was more silence as Angie digested her response in an attempt to determine how she was culpable. “I was angry,” Victoria clarified with no hint of remorse.

Angie was confused. “But I,” she began and then gave up. She wriggled from Victoria’s reverse embrace and turned to face her in the gloom, her wrists still awkwardly shackled between them. “You wanted me to feel your pain?” She blurted out, unable to fathom any other connection.

Victoria’s features appeared stony and emotionless in the darkness. She stared back at the girl for a few seconds. “Yes,” she answered simply, as if her motivation had been obvious up to that point.

Lots of responses passed through Angie's mind, but she remembered her promise to herself not to act too rashly. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to step back from her urge to start yelling. She took a breath and tried to think of a constructive response.

Finally, she opened her eyes again. Victoria’s expression hadn’t changed, perhaps braced for the protest she knew was coming. “Did it make you feel better?” Angie asked at last, her tone blunt.

“What?” Obviously, Victoria hadn’t been expecting the question.

“You caused me pain so that I would feel the way you felt. You were hoping taking out your frustration would make you feel better. So, did you feel better?”

The silence stretched out longer this time while Victoria’s features seemed to become stonier still. Angie teetered on the brink of withdrawing her question to try to limit the punishment she would likely suffer for her impertinence. Before she could, Victoria uttered a single-word response: “No.” Anger and frustration bubbled behind her admission.

Hearing that, Angie wondered if Victoria was still holding on to her pent-up emotions over her deal gone bad, all bottled up inside. She raised a hand, still awkwardly bound at the wrist, and gently cupped the older woman’s hot cheek. Was she flushed? Was it with anger or embarrassment, Angie wondered. She searched her mind for some way to make her bedfellow feel better, suddenly sympathetic despite the lingering discomfort in her backside.

“Perhaps,” Angie began tentatively, then continued with more certainty. “Perhaps if you feel that way again, you could come to me. I know I could make you feel better.” It was a certainty that she didn’t feel, but anything was worth a try to avoid another angry caning.

“How?” Victoria demanded in a whisper.

“Come to me next time, and I’ll show you,” Angie whispered back before kissing her on the other cheek and turning away again. Despite her shackled wrists, she pulled Victoria’s arm over her, restoring the spoon and made as if she was settling to sleep.

Victoria didn’t say any more, and Angie lay awake for a long time, wondering if she could deliver on her enigmatic promise. She didn’t want to be caned again. She didn’t want to be subject to Janik’s unrestrained attentions, and she wasn’t sure if the two had been connected or whether the big Pole had just taken advantage of the situation. Even if he had, Victoria still might not have been bothered due to her rage.

If anything, the exchange showed that perhaps Victoria could be bargained with. Only time would tell.

---

Mary awkwardly manoeuvred the dinner tray into Angie’s room, once again grateful that it never seemed to cross the captive girl’s mind that she could easily get past her when she was in such a vulnerable position. Instead, Angie was sitting cross-legged on a pillow on the floor, facing the mirror, eyes closed, her hands draped loosely in her lap. She was barefoot and wearing an outfit which suggested she had come straight from the gym. It wasn’t the first time Mary had walked in on her in such a state.

Laboriously, Mary placed the tray on the desk and turned to face the unfortunate girl. She knew that Mrs McCarthy was away on business and Mr Janik wasn’t loitering outside the door, so Mary decided to take the opportunity to try to get to know this strange captive. “What are you doing down there?”

“Meditating,” the girl murmured, opening her eyes.

“Why?” Mary asked, baffled. She had never gone in for new-age rubbish like yoga and meditation. She always found it much more relaxing to enjoy a night out with her friends, although it had been a while since she’d had such an opportunity to do that.

The girl stretched. Mary was envious of her long limbs and looks, but Angie didn’t seem to be aware of what a fine thing she was. Indeed, locked in a room at the hands of Mary’s employer, few could appreciate her beauty. “It helps me clear my mind, think, and pass the time.”

“It doesn’t seem to have helped you think your way out of here,” Mary pointed out flippantly and bit her tongue, immediately aware that she had broken their unspoken gentleman’s agreement not to talk about Angie’s incarceration. She flushed with embarrassment, but the girl didn’t seem bothered.

“It means I’ve looked out of that window, I can see we're in the middle of nowhere. If I got outside the door, I’d have a heap of other problems to solve, and I’d probably just get caught. I don’t want to think about what would happen then.” Angie shrugged, forlorn. “I’m not going to do anything until I know more. Until then, I’m stuck here.”

Mary was impressed. She wondered what Mrs McCarthy’s heavy, Janik, might do to the poor girl if he caught Angie escaping. She had learned from veteran members of the household that he had a fearsome reputation and would probably have had no trouble tracking the girl down before she got very far.

Shuddering at the thought, Mary decided to change the subject. “You have an accent. Where are you from?”

Angie had moved to sit on the edge of the bed. She blushed. “I don’t think I want to say.”

“Why-ever not, girl? Are you ashamed of where you’re from?” Mary couldn’t conceive of the thought, being a proud Dubliner herself.

“No. It’s just that if I tell you, you might start looking for an Angie-shaped hole there, and that could get you into trouble.”

Mary nodded, realising that her own curiosity might have got the better of her. Their other gentlemen’s agreement, one which they had vocalised, was that Angie didn’t want to do anything which would get Mary into trouble. Something Mary was grateful for, given the precarious nature of her situation.

“But you're English, aren’t you? How did you end up here?” Mary had to admit she had been insatiably curious about the captive girl. She seemed to have appeared out of thin air, and it had become one of Mary’s more onerous duties not to ask questions about the girl, obviously held against her will.

“Yes, I’m English. I passed out at home with Victoria, and when I woke up, I was in bed with her here.”

Mary’s blush deepened. She wasn’t entirely sure about the nature of Angie’s relationship with her employer. However, the previous Saturday, she had bought her breakfast in bed after Mrs McCarthy had left and found that Angie had slept cuffed to the bed in a leather bondage harness, most likely with Mary’s employer. She decided to steer clear of the question for the moment.

“So, you knew Mrs McCarthy before here?”

Angie cringed a little and looked like she might not answer, but eventually, she unwound a little. “Yes. She was really good to me before, which is why I’m pretty confused right now.”

“What? She showered you with gifts, type of thing?” Mary could well imagine Mrs McCarthy flying in to effortlessly sweep a poor girl off her feet with her wealth, as evidenced by her estate and the things in it. She found the woman intimidating though, and couldn’t imagine being wooed by her.

“No. Hardly anything, in fact,” came the surprising response. Angie seemed to think about it for a few more seconds and then went on. “She was the first person to really treat me like an adult.” The girl seemed for a moment to be caught up in a more pleasant memory, “And now I’m her prisoner. Locked up in this dank, dark, luxurious suite.” The girl's tone had taken on an air of irony as she took in her rich surroundings.

Mary gave in to her curiosity and sat down on the single chair. “Why are you locked up? Are you dangerous or something?”

“I don’t know," Angie shrugged. "I guess she doesn’t want me to escape; that’s pretty obvious. But what am I doing here? I’m not sure.” She scanned around the expensive suite again, the focus of her captivity. “She must have spent a lot of money and effort to get me here. It feels like she wants me to be her plaything. Some kind of toy?” She shook her head.

Again, Mary felt she’d touched a sensitive spot. She decided to change the subject again. “You look so young; you must have just turned 18?”

The girl seemed to clam up and remained silent.

“Younger?” Mary was shocked. Mrs McCarthy was definitely robbing the cradle.

“I don’t really want to talk about it.” Angie cringed. When she saw Mary’s continued curiosity, she added, “if I told you I was 12, you’d be outraged at Victoria keeping a child prisoner, and you’d probably do something stupid and get yourself into trouble. I don’t want that. I’m not 12, by the way.”

Mary was surprised on two fronts. First, the girl seemed to have such a level head on her shoulders, and second, she knew the age of consent in Ireland was 17 and wondered if Angie was even younger than that. Not that Mrs McCarthy would bat an eyelid at breaking such a law. She seemed to view such things as mere guidelines and broke them when it suited her.

Mary’s sympathy for the girl increased along with her guilt at being powerless to assist her. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Angie’s eyes lit up immediately. “Get me books. Please. I’m going stir-crazy in here. Anything to read would help pass the time until Victoria comes back, and I can figure out what’s going on.”

Mary raised an eyebrow; she had been expecting something a bit more risqué. “That’s not really what I had in mind.”

Angie nodded reluctantly. “I know, but I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me, and I really do want something to read. Anything.”

“Don’t you have family?”

“Yes.” Angie looked as if she’d been punched in the gut. “I really, really miss them. But I don’t want anything to happen to them because I did something stupid without thinking things through. That’s what landed me here in the first place.” Her voice betrayed deep desolation.

Mary gave the girl her best consolatory smile. “I’ll see what I can do.” She had to admit she liked this girl, but that made her inability to assist her harder to bear. She hoped she wouldn’t end up in a situation where she had to choose between Angie and her father, who had got her into this mess in the first place but whom she also loved, and he was family after all.