Fresh Meat

In what had become her morning ritual, Victoria settled with a steaming cup of fresh coffee in hand to watch live footage of Angie stretching, exercising and meditating in her suite. She reflected on the evening before, which had been most enjoyable, and her sleep with her favourite pet had been settled and relaxing. In fact, Victoria reflected, actually sleeping with Angie seemed to have that effect on her.

She switched to the historical log to watch with interest Angie's encounter with Skylar. Victoria had only met Dita's sub once before, not long after Dita had taken her on as her submissive. Even at that time, she had been impressed by what an excellent couple they made despite the age gap.

Victoria couldn't help but smile at Angie's comment about her being a 'screamer'; she certainly could be, but it had initially been an excuse to gag her in order to subtly emphasise the older woman's dominance. As she continued to listen, Victoria realised that, on some level, Angie was aware of that dominance and her own need to express it and seemed comfortable with the idea.

When Angie and Skylar began to discuss consensual D/s play, and the younger girl's ignorance began to show, Victoria started to cringe inwardly, seeing how the conversation could lead to trouble. She was first surprised at Angie's defence of Victoria's treatment of her and struck when she told Skylar that she was there by her own choice.

Victoria paused the recording and stared at the girl, depicted as she was from multiple angles. Could she mean it? She had certainly had plenty of opportunity to escape by now or to at least elicit assistance to do so. Yet the girl was still there, accepting her captivity, engaging Victoria's whims, and seemingly enjoying herself in the process. Not that Victoria hadn't stayed her hand at times in order to not be overly harsh. She didn't want to scare the girl away after all, but she never imagined that such a state of affairs was possible.

She resumed playback of the recording. Victoria wondered if Angie's talk last night about choosing who she was intimate with was related to Skylar's references to respecting limits. Certainly, Victoria had no intention of sharing Angie with anyone she didn't want to be with, but was the girl aware of that? After all, she lived according to Victoria's whims right now. The same whims which had led to her being raped at the hands of Janik.

She thought about her intimidating Eastern European assistant. He was useful, but perhaps she should consider replacing him at some point in the near future. Good help was hard to find, but he remained a threat to Angie, despite Victoria limiting his access to her. She had been quite explicit that he keep his hands off unless the girl escaped. While she could fire him if he touched her inappropriately again, such would leave her prize pet even more scarred, or worse. Victoria still winced whenever she noticed the fading pink scar above Angie's left eyebrow.

Victoria switched to a recording of Dita taking Angie in hand in the lounge. Cameras were a lot less frequently spaced in the rest of the house than in her pet's suite, but the angle was a good one. She felt the heat of excitement as she watched her friend spank the elaborately dressed girl lying across her lap and capably bring her to orgasm.

The thought of giving Angie more freedom made Victoria distinctly nervous due to the lack of surveillance. Letting her out of her cage could either draw her in further or be catastrophic; she would have to watch the girl like a hawk for at least the first few days, but the alternative was keeping her bottled up, and given how she had selflessly defended Victoria, that felt wrong.

Angie arduously finished her last few sit-ups and sat breathing hard. She was undoubtedly a lot more toned than she had been when she had first woken in Victoria's bed. By her reckoning, it had been six weeks. She hadn't seen the sky or outside through anything other than a window in all that time. Her early boredom had been assuaged by Mary bringing her books, but now she had to have a routine to keep herself occupied each day.

Not that she hadn't been making progress. Victoria's attitude to her seemed very different from when she arrived. She had gone from whipping girl at the bottom of the pecking order to some kind of prized sex slave. Not that she hadn't been enjoying her sessions with Victoria, but due to her continued captivity, she hesitated to think of her as a lover as she once had. That was becoming more difficult, though, as Victoria became more affectionate and protective.

Angie briefly thought of her family and home. She did so about once a day now, far less frequently than she used to. Every time, she felt guilt at the pain they must be in, but she was resigned that she was doing what little she could do. Every day she spent in captivity felt like she was a little further from home. The previous evening spent with Skylar and over Dita's knee just felt like another step away from the normal life she used to know. What she said to Skylar had been true; she really wasn't sure what was 'normal' any more. It led her to wonder if she could ever get back, and if she did, would she be happy returning to who she was. Could she even?

The lock clicked, and Victoria entered. Angie was surprised, given it wasn't a time when her captor usually started a session, but also pleased because her presence was something which always broke the monotony. She couldn't help but smile up at her from her position seated on the rug.

Victoria was dressed in her everyday clothes, elegant but functional. Every time she saw her, Angie felt a pull of attraction; even the whiff of her favourite perfume could trigger it. The older woman offered a finely manicured hand to lift the girl to her feet, which Angie graciously accepted.

"Come with me." Victoria's tone was mild and undemanding for a change, like she had something to show Angie rather than something she wanted to subject her to.

The older woman led them downstairs and towards the back of the house. She drew them to a small conservatory gently warmed by the sun when it occasionally peaked through the clouds. The room had a tiled floor and a few items of gym equipment, a treadmill, rowing machine and exercise bike.

"This is where I come to stay in shape. You have a lovely body, and you've done a fine job with what you have in your room, but I'll let you use this equipment as long as I'm not from now on."

Angie cocked her head, surprised by both the generosity of the offer and Victoria's strange tone of voice. Normally, her captor seemed to oscillate between demanding and tenderly affectionate. Now, she sounded more conciliatory, uncertain even. The situation left the girl somewhat confused. Was Mary going to watch her exercise and escort her back afterwards? Or worse, Janik? She shuddered momentarily at the thought.

"But how?" Angie began before Victoria cut her off.

"Your door will open for you," she stated simply.

Angie stood open-mouthed for a moment, unable to process the implications of those six little words. Victoria's features softened, and she moved to hold the girl. "Stay within the estate and avoid Mr Janik where possible; he has been made aware that you're free to roam. Some areas are still off limits, but the thumb locks will see to that."

It slowly dawned on Angie that Victoria was far from letting her go, but she was granting her a level of freedom which she had never expected to receive. Overjoyed and, despite being faintly sweaty from her workout, she hugged Victoria. "Thank you," she whispered, ecstatic.

As if to make good on Victoria's gift, Angie put in a strenuous workout session on the equipment in the conservatory. Faintly unsettled by her new freedom, she returned straight to her room to shower and receive lunch. Mary was also taken aback by Angie's newly granted freedom and suggested she visit her room the next day, a Saturday when she had the morning off.

After lunch, Angie decided to perform some very tentative exploration. She had nothing to wear but Lycra gym clothes and the role-play outfits which Victoria had chosen for her. For her first foray, she stuck with the Lycra and explored the library.

It was in one of the oldest parts of the estate, and the last time Angie had been there had been her first night when Victoria had given her a tour. Much of the shelves were populated with old leather-bound books, the kind seemingly passed down between the generations in stately homes but which no one ever seemed to read and persisted just for appearance.

One corner did show signs of more recent usage. A whole shelf stood out in stark yellow. It was edition after edition of National Geographic magazine. They went back a long way, and each month was represented up until just over ten years before. They stopped around December 2008, with a gap at the end of the shelf as if whoever had been collecting them simply lost interest.

Another shelf, lower down and partially hidden by furniture, contained well-thumbed paperbacks: The Story of O, Lolita, Venus in Furs and other works of a very specific genre. Angie made a note to borrow some for her own reading pleasure.

The rest of the room was old, filled with ancient furniture and ornamentation. It felt deeply ancestral to Angie, but Victoria had never made any mention of family. In fact, she had kept quiet about most of her personal life. She felt like she was just beginning to see a glimmer of details, but they were still too distant to make out.

Feeling faintly anxious about being out of her room, as if Miriam or Janik might arrive at any moment to accost her, Angie retreated to her sanctuary, but not before borrowing a few of the erotic classics for her own perusal.

Tentatively, Angie knocked on the wooden door, hoping she had got the right one. It was Saturday morning, and theoretically, Mary should be off work and in her room. Of course, that all hinged on Angie managing to follow her directions to the servant's quarters and get the right door.

Luckily, the petite Irish girl opened the door and welcomed Angie inside. Her room was small, with a single bed, but compared to Angie's suite, it felt cosy. She liked it. It also had the feeling that someone lived there; Mary's uniform hung up, a framed photo on the dresser and other little touches.

Angie blushed as she entered, "I'm sorry about my outfit. I think part of Victoria's strategy for preventing me from going far is to make sure I don't have anything to wear I'd be seen dead wearing outside." She looked down at her dungaree shorts over a white short-sleeved top with puffed sleeves. Her legs were covered with one of the few pairs of tights in her wardrobe, coloured in eye-popping black and white stripes. A pair of baseball boots at least meant she didn't have to walk around in stocking feet.

"You look fine." Mary chuckled a little, "Maybe this is how Victoria thinks teenagers dress these days."

Mary herself was in casual clothes for a change: jeans and an over-large woollen sweater. She took a seat at the dresser and gestured for Angie to sit on her bed.

"No. I think this is one of the outfits Victoria intended for role-play." Angie cringed a little. She didn't often discuss her sexual activities with Mary, even though she knew the maid was quite aware of the kinds of things they got up to. She looked back at the seated girl, serious now. "Can you tell me why you're so afraid of Victoria?"

Mary sighed and reached for the photograph. "My da likes to bet on the horses. He's never been that good at it. It became a problem, and he kept it hidden. He ended up having to borrow money from the wrong kind of people."

Angie frowned, unable to make the connection, but allowed Mary to continue as she stared at the photo. "Somehow, Mrs McCarthy got wind of it and bought his debt off the loan sharks. He has to pay her back by letting me work for her, and unless I keep my mouth shut about the kind of things which go on here, she'll call in the debt. My parents will be out on the street, probably me too."

She stroked the photo. "My da's not a bad man; he just had a problem. Mrs McCarthy is very good at using things like that against people." She looked up from the picture. "I really, really want to help you, Angie, but that's what it would cost."

Angie felt intense sympathy for the girl. It was a reminder that Victoria had another side, a ruthless side which sometimes came out. "It's OK, I can take care of myself."

It was Mary's turn to frown. "Like you did with Janik? Jesus, Mary and Joseph, girl," she had to consciously quiet her voice as her volume began to rise, "he raped you!" She set the photo down and turned to Angie. "I hear rumours from some of the older members of staff. Mrs McCarthy has kept others. I don't know what happened to them, but they weren't here when I arrived. You're not safe here." Mary's stark blue eyes shone with concern.

Angie nodded and spoke in low tones. "The doctor who treated me said there had been others."

"Then maybe you need to start thinking about getting out of here now that you've got a bit of freedom, girl." Mary was urgent. She gestured around the room, "I don't think there are any bugs in here, so we should be able to talk without being overheard."

Angie looked pensive. Having fun with Victoria was all well and good, but there were ominous signs that she had been ignoring, along with their implications for her long-term survival. As ever, she felt conflicted.

"I don't want to rush into anything," Angie suggested defensively. She could see protest mounting in Mary, but she cut her off. "The doctor said Victoria had him fit trackers to the other people she kept. He told me he fitted one to me too. It's somewhere inside me; he didn't say where, but if I make a break for it, Janik will easily hunt me down."

Mary's protest died in her throat; she looked at the floor, seeming unsure what to say.

"The problem is, I like her," Angie felt like the admission had been torn from her. It certainly caught Mary by surprise. Angie shrugged and tried to get her thoughts in order. "She had me at the first kiss," she shook her head in dismay about how easy a mark she must have been. "She lured me with sex, I'll admit it, but there were other things too. She treated me like an adult; she was caring and attentive. I'd never had a boyfriend before her, never even properly kissed someone. I can't imagine going back to my old life and finding anyone else like her."

Angie looked down at her hands, not wanting to make eye contact with Mary while she poured her heart out. "If she hadn't kidnapped me, I wonder what we could have become, whether I would have eventually told anyone. I wonder what they might have said. I didn't expect it would have been anything good, and the chances are I would have gone off with Victoria of my own accord. I think I could have been OK with that. But now, everything's so messed up."

"Oh, Angie. I'm so sorry." When she looked up, Angie could see that Mary was unexpectedly sympathetic to her plight. For the longest time, Angie had blamed herself for her predicament. Now, it didn't seem to matter any longer.

Mary cringed awkwardly. "It feels like a silly question, but does this mean you're gay?"

Angie could only give a bitter laugh, remembering Victoria's answer to the same question. "Just because I dress like a lesbian?" She gestured to her outfit before shaking her head in jest before becoming more serious. "What if it's just her?" Angie asked. It was the defence which always sprang to mind when she asked herself the question. But what about Skylar, Milla even? "I fancied a boy in school, but he turned out to be a bit of a dick, and he couldn't kiss half as well as Victoria. She kind of swept me off my feet, and after that, there was no competition. I suppose I'm not off boys; I just haven't found a good one yet."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"It's OK. I've never had many friends. I really like that I have someone who I can talk to about this stuff and who feels comfortable enough with me to ask. This thing with Victoria started 6 months ago, and I haven't been able to talk to a single soul about it until now."

Mary smiled warmly, came over to the bed and gave Angie a hug. Victoria wasn't much into hugging, but Angie very much appreciated a friendly hug from the petite girl. Perhaps it was encouraging that she didn't fancy Mary.

"Why don't you start at the beginning and tell me the whole story?" Mary suggested. Angie sat back against the wall, finally comfortable enough in somebody's company to be able to admit all that had happened to her.

Mary had changed into her uniform as she was back on duty for the afternoon. She led Angie deeper into the house. "There's someone I really want you to meet," she explained. "In fact, there's someone who's been really looking forward to meeting you." Angie was intrigued, having thought she had met everyone on the sparsely populated estate.

Mary took her down a short flight of stairs into a long room which looked half like a farmhouse kitchen and half styled in the clean lines and stainless steel of the production end of a fancy restaurant. Spanning these two incongruous worlds was a marked and scared wooden table where a woman sat nursing a cup of tea.

The woman was perhaps in her late 50s or early 60s, her grey hair and lined, weathered skin contrasting against her dark green eyes. Shortened by age, she got up as they entered the room. "Hello Mary, who have you bought me?" Her voice was kindly and with the thick Irish accent sported by Mary and Miriam.

Mary seemed genuinely pleased to be in her presence. "This is Angelica. Angie, this is Cook."

The penny dropped for Angie, someone she had heard so much about but never seen. Nor was she likely to see her, imprisoned as she had been in her room.

The elderly woman produced a welcoming smile. "I'm Cara really, but only my husband calls me that. Everyone here just calls me Cook."

"I have laundry to see to. I'll see you later, Angie," and with that, Mary left them alone.

Angie blushed; she never felt comfortable meeting new people, especially dressed as she was. "I'm sorry about the outfit. I think it's Victoria's way of encouraging me to stay indoors."

"Nonsense youngwan, come and sit down." She gestured to another chair and eased herself back down. "My, you're but a wean. Vicky really is robbing the cradle." Angie blushed deeper; it was all she seemed to do when she met new people these days. However, her curiosity overtook her embarrassment.

"Vicky? She's always been Victoria to me and Mrs McCarthy to everyone else. I've never taken her as a 'Vicky'."

Cook sighed heavily. "She was Vicky once, young and carefree." She brightened a little. "But things change, and new young things such as yourself appear on the scene. Can I get you something to drink, youngwan?"

Angie couldn't help but smile. She felt a comfort in Cook's presence that she could only liken to what she felt being with her grandma. "Is that tea? I'd love a cup. I don't think I've had one since I arrived here."

"There's plenty left in the pot," and with that, she poured a cup and handed it to the girl.

Angie supped the beige liquid. "Oh, I've missed that." She gave a great sigh of satisfaction. "Sorry, I'm English."

"There's plenty more where that came from." Cook smiled pleasantly. "I can see why she likes you."

Angie was caught off guard. "Mary?"

"Vicky." Cook corrected. "She doesn't sleep well. It's a long-standing problem. When she doesn't feel in control of things, she gets anxious and angry, and she doesn't sleep well." Angie wondered how many sleepless nights she had caused Victoria and how many more she might cause her now she was less under her control.

"I leave cocoa out at night in case she's pacing about; I can always tell when she's had some. She never needs it when you share her bed." Angie cringed in her seat, but Cook just chuckled. "I've always known Vicky had eclectic tastes, and you're the most promising attachment she's had since her husband passed."

Angie was a bit taken aback at the concept of 'husband'. They did refer to her as 'Mrs' McCarthy, after all. "You seem very familiar with Victoria. Have you known her a long time?"

Cook appeared to cast her mind back, "Oh, it must be 15 years since she first passed under my door. She was older than you, but still pretty young. I liked her from the start and over the years, she has been good to me. A few years back, she bought me a new kitchen." She cast her hand around the expensive setup.

Angie smiled. It was nice to know someone who liked Victoria as much as she did, although perhaps for different reasons. It was strange, supping tea and chatting in a relaxed kind of way. "You remind me of my grandma. Perhaps Victoria likes you so much because you remind her of hers."

Cooks look of revelry changed abruptly, her features overcast. "Not likely. Vicky was an orphan, she didn't grow up here. She had a hard childhood at the hands of the Sisters of Mercy."