My Lady · Part 1

My Lady · Part 1 (1/2)
Next

As I walk into my garage I hold out the lamp and peer into the darkness that crowds round its feeble light.

The whole garage smells of oil and petrol and paraffin. A faint whiff of perfume lingers in the air, not a smell I get in here as it's not really a woman's place. Old Mrs Duffin from the farm came down with her van now and again but she smelt of cows and horses.

I hear it: A low moan of suffering. My young apprentice Ted had been walking down the street past my garage and had alerted me to the problem.

Being a Sunday night he was on his way from the chapel for his tea and then to bed. We had a busy day tomorrow as Lord Melchard and his party needed their cars to drive them to the station then hence to London for the big vote on Thursday.

So when he knocked on my door and said he had heard something behind my garage's big wooden doors I was worried.

We had the Lord's Rolls Royce in for an oil change and for me to put new wicks in his head lights. He also had a shooting brake booked in the morning and then one of his staff's cars too. I also had a spring to replace on the old Fordson lorry of the local coal man. So I didn't need someone nicking my tools or my lord's car.

I try to move as quietly as I can into the dark recesses that I know so well. Dad had used this building as a blacksmith's-come-livery-stables and had the sense to send me to learn about motor vehicles be it lorries or cars so was in his words ready for the new world.

My hobnail boots aren't the most sneaky thing to move about in so I slip my feet out of them wincing at the cold of the floor as soon as my foot touches it through the hole in my sock.

There it is! I think as a sound echoes from the back where the Rolls is.

There is a little light coming from the moon's glow drifting in from the skylights in the V of the roof.

I stand still as a low moan or a whimper comes across the dark void, and then I move across behind the coal lorry picking up a jacking bar. I pause again and hear nothing. Just that empty quiet feeling you get when you're on your own here. I stand with my head on one side slowing my breathing down. There is a creak and a bump as if something is shuffling and as I creep around the side of the lorry I hear it again.

A soft sound, a gasp or something like that, maybe even a sigh, I jump round the side of the Rolls with the bar raised above my head. Nothing; I laugh out loud looking under it for a cat or a rat. Nothing, not a thing!

Turning I lean on the large trunk attached to the rear of the shooting brake and jump back as a muffled scream echoes round the garage making me stumble and kick over a can of Valine oil.

“Bloody hell!” I moan, rubbing my big toe on my right foot with my left foot. I hop over to the trunk and look hard at it. Holding the lamp close to it I tug at the straps holding it to the car and hearing a squeal I speed up wondering what the hell is going on.

There is a lock, a catch but that won't be a problem as I have a file on my desk which should slide under the catch the flick it out and release it. Gently doing that so I don't scratch the burnished metal of the base of it thinking if it's nothing to worry about I will just relock it. Holding the lamp up I lift the lid and drop it. I lift it again and peep into the void. A pair of stunning blue eyes as wide as mine I'd imagine looked back at me with fright.

The familiar looking woman's mouth is cruelly spilt by a black leather belt deforming the beauty of her. I lean in and look more closely, whoever she is, her body is naked and covered in leather straps and belts.

Flesh bulging each side of the belt testifies to the tightness of the binding of her body. She is drawn up into a ball and packed in held upright by the set of old army greatcoats stuffed around her body. I set the lamp on the back of the Rolls, reach in, and pull out a few of the great coats so I can lift her out. Reaching in I slide my hands down her back and the front of her shins to her feet and I am shocked to find out she is naked all over.

Lifting her out, she moans and is shaking like a leaf. Scared or cold, I am not sure, so I carry her to the small office where I left the coal fire banked up when I left earlier, to go see my mother who lives two streets back from my house. Being single and having the business to run since my dad died I spend a lot of time here at the garage now.

I had been doing my book keeping earlier in the afternoon so it was still warm as I opened the door and carried her in and deposited her on the desk, lighting the gas mantle and turning up the wick. The light is still not brilliant so I look over and say “don't go anywhere” and go off to get the lamp I'd left near the Rolls.

I step into my boots and pick up the lamp and rush back as I don't want her dropping off the desk.

The first thing I notice as I enter the office, closing the door to keep the heat in, is that she is not a young woman.

She is very attractive. She carries a bit of weight, with large breasts squeezed between her thighs and chest. Each strap is really tight and there's a lot of them, a leather thick collar encircles her neck.

Her arms are crushed behind her back at the elbow and wrists; these are also augmented by thicker straps which hold her body in the squashed position. Her eyes follow me as I look around her and notice her legs are also fastened at the ankle and above her knees. The loops of the belt which wrap her in the ball sort of hide the belts strapped around her torso. Each breast has a belt round the base of it which looks harsh as the pressure of her legs crush them onto the belts.

She must be hurting I think and decide even though she is in that trunk for a reason I cannot just put her back.

The other implication is, as the shooting brake is from the manor house, I could lose a lot of business if I'm interfering with some of his lordship’s dealings. I don't know much about the goings on up at the house but with another war looming I cannot afford to lose business now. So I face a dilemma.

She doesn't seem to be pleading to be released, she is just watching. I hope she isn't too bothered by my face. Some women are. The German officer’s sabre hadn't left me with much of a smile on the left hand side of my mush.

Moving round I roll her on her side gently noticing a strap goes up between her buttocks and covers her mound. Putting the kettle onto the wire hanging over the fire, I open the vent and start piling more coal to get it to warm the water quicker; she must be nithered, so I put some coco into a pair of cups.

I'm still worried as to what to do with regards to the lady on my desk. The kettle starts to boil and I take it off the wire and pour it on the cocoa and stir it. Holding it out under her nose I say “If I undo the strap in your mouth will you promise not to scream? You can have a drink. I mean you no harm. I can put you back where I found you or release you, it's your choice.

I look in her eyes and she nods as much as she can. Picking her up I place her on her feet and buttocks. I then chuck a couple of logs on the fire as it's getting cool now.

“Back in a minute I'll lock up so no one can get in.”

I lock the small access door I had entered by and walk back in the office admiring her buttocks framing the black leather strap parting them. I also notice the fact she has goose bumps on her back so I pick her up and put her on the rag rug in front of the fire sitting her back against the soft armchair I often snooze in. I move the cocoa to the side of the fire, and kneel down reaching behind and unfastening the belt eased it out between her lips.

She grimaces and eases her jaws together. “Thank you!” Her voice is cultured, nice. Now the belts are not distorting her face, I recognise her.

“My lady?” she nods and smiles. I hold out the cocoa for her to sip on. She takes a sip and sighs.

She smiles again. “Mr Robson,” she says formally.

“Stan, ma'am you can call me Stan.”

“Tonight I think you can call me Emily!” she nods her head down her naked body. I smile at her joke.

I sip my cocoa and sit looking at her with my back against the wall. “I take it as you're not demanding to be let out. you’re here of your own choice?”

Her smile is warm and humorous and I laughed out loud as she answered, “No and yes. My husband and I enjoy these games and I had challenged him to a duel, he had to place me in the car away from our home. What gave me away?” she nods to the cup and I hold it to her lips and she blows and then sips at it. I place it by the fire and pick up mine and drink from it.

“A noise, you made a noise and my apprentice heard it as he walked home from chapel. I thought maybe someone was having your car away.”

Emily smiled again. “I had a moment, if you know what I mean.”

I smile my understanding, and she blushes a little. I nod.

“It's going to get cold tonight so you might want to stay in here with the fire. My garage gets cold on a frosty night, do you want putting back in or do you want to stop here in my office?”

“You seem to be okay with this situation. She looks at me funny. You won't tell anyone will you?”

“The amount of money your husband pays me is enough to ensure my silence and I am enjoying the view to be honest my lady. When do we need to get you into the trunk again?”

I grin at her and she smiles back. I hold the cup out to her.

“About nine I think, Groves is coming for the car. But I could go back now if you need to go home.” She pauses and smiles.” Not something you'd expect of us is it?” She looks off into the distance.

I am amazed at how calm she is. She is sitting in the office of the person who looks after the manors cars naked and compressed.

“We will need to get you back in your trunk before then as my young lad starts at seven thirty.” I offer her the last of the cocoa in her cup.

She sips and sighs again. “”Thank you it's like a draft of heaven, I went in the trunk at dinner time today.”

“You must be used to it, and get a lot of enjoyment.” I say and reach into the bread box for some of mum's home made bread.

“Toast?” I ask. Wondering if I am crazy? A naked woman who is very attractive sat on my rug and I cannot really touch her as I couldn't afford the scandal if her husband found out.

“Oh really! Thank you, you're spoiling me. I will have to make it up to you.” she smiles as I put the bread on the toasting fork. “I get so much fun out of this as with my girls married, I have time to kill and this is my main way of dealing with it. I love the feelings it gives me!” She sighs and shuffles a bit.

We sit and eat toast as if a man feeding a trussed up woman is the most usual thing in the world.

“I need a wee and I don't want to wee on your rug.”

I have a loo out the back so I offer to carry her to it. So with a struggle to carry her without dropping her I manage to get her in and sitting on it, her buttocks get soaked with her pee as it flows past the strap covering her bits, but I had plenty of newspaper to wipe her dry.

With the strap between her legs I couldn't really dry her well or that out either. “It doesn't matter as I will have a pee in the trunk before I'm let out tomorrow,” she tells me.

The rest of the evening goes nicely, we chat and she tells me all about her need to be tied up. Her sex life is so much better and her husband now spends more time with her as they play these games a lot. I cover her with a blanket and leave her on the rug in front of the fire. Covered with an old blanket. while I sleep for a bit on the sofa.

We had another cup of cocoa and a slice of toast before I re-strap her mouth and at her insistence tighten her body belts a notch making her even more balled up as it's about 0630.

Easing her back into the case I cover her with as much of the greatcoats as I can. I then lug it back onto the car and push and pull it onto the car's luggage rack.

Strapping it to the rack I start the car and back it up to the door so it can catch the early morning sun to warm it up coming through the windows in the front of the big doors. Before settling into my armchair and going to sleep for a bit.

I walk home and have a small bacon sandwich with my mother who bollocked me for not coming home. I said I had done some paperwork and fell asleep.

Soon the driver comes for the car and it goes up to the big house in a trail of blue smoke and a couple of backfires as he floors it.

The rest of the week went along as usual. I have to admit when seeing the big trunk boxes on the rear of the cars made me wonder and smile.

The next Saturday I am alone in the office when there's a knock behind me. A long day had been had and I was doing my books again. I do lead an exciting life, me!

I sigh and look back at the door expecting my mum to be stood there, about to complain about my not coming home for tea. Instead, stood in the doorway is Lord Melchard.

“My lord!” I stand and pull my cap off.

“Mr Roberson, may I have a moment of your time ” he asks, and I point to a chair.

“Tea?” I ask moving to the kettle and then picking up the pot and pouring the dregs in the bin.

“Thank you!” he sighs and takes a seat. I have always liked the old boy. He is one of the better sort of gents who pays his bills on time and always seems happy. But not now, I think: more uneasy.

I sigh; his wife must have told him of my discovery. An awkward silence descends as I pour the makings into the pot and stir it round.

He coughs. And takes the tin mug off me as I offer it to him. “Stan, I am grateful for your tact and discretion over what you found on the back of my motor last weekend!” he pauses and coughs continuing “My wife tells me you were a gentleman and a kind man for not judging us. And she thanks you for the warm and caring actions on a cold night!”

I just nod sensing he wants to say more so I let him compose his thoughts.

“It's not been easy for her. We lost our son at Ypres and both daughters are married and live away now. We have taken to the games we play to fill in the time we spend together. She needs this as some sort of therapy after losing the boy and now the girls.

But I am finding it hard to fit in the time she needs, now I am the member of Parliament for this area, which is why I am so thankful to you for not telling anyone of Saturday night’s escapades!”

He holds his hand out and I shake it. Still very weary of what might be about to come there is a social order and I don't want to lose his business.

“It's okay Sir, your wife explained it all to me as well as you have,” I demure to him still not sure if this is a warning or more.

He sips his tea. “Oh god I forgot what proper Tommie tea is. I love the condensed milk!” I remember he was there with us as an engineer officer. The Great War had still got a hold of us, in all sorts of sad ways.

“I have a huge favour to ask you.” He looked across at me, watching my face to see if I was worried, which I am.

“Go on Sir!”

“My wife and I wonder if you could help us with her desires when I am away. She has a strange need to be kept prisoner and we cannot trust the staff to keep it a secret. And you already know her odd ways.” He coughs and looks away. “I understand this may seem very odd to you. And I am not sure how you will work it so we keep it from the public. The scandal would ruin us.” I look out of the window into the open space of my garage and I think it worries him that I might be about to reject his offer. “I would pay you well for it and you can enjoy my wife at any stage and in any hole except her fanny.”

I am taken aback by this, as I just thought he was needing a gaoler for her. “Er, thank you Sir, does your wife know of this offer?”

He has the decency to look a bit bashful. “She does Stan she understands there would be a cost to you holding her prisoner and we would both like you to take care of her.

“We would pretend that she was coming with me to London but in reality she would be staying either here or in our cellar, she gets so bored in London so this seems to be a better option all round. I have decided that the old underground ice house can be converted to be her prison. Thus if she is locked into it only myself and you would have a key.

“You can access it from here through the woods and bring her back here when you can. She liked it here in your office but we know you would have to keep her out of sight.” His smile made it seem possible, as if we had just discussed servicing his Rolls. Odd lot, are the gentry.

“Can I think about it Sir? As it’s an unusual request and there could be a few problems if we get found out.”

“So it’s not a no then!” he smiled.

“No sir it's not a no. More a ‘let me think about how we do it!’”

“My wife will fill you in on how her treatment should be but I will say the harsher the better she seems to like it. Not permanent marks though! She likes a strapping. But try not to break the skin!”

I nod and we sip our cooling tea and he smiles at me “Thank you! You're doing us a great service.” and with that he stood up and left me watching his long strides as he walked off to his car.

“Well bugger me!” I thought and poured myself a brandy from the medical box.

Tuesday morning I was helping Ted out the back, re-flooring an old Foden wooden body lorry.

Harold, my main mechanic, came wandering through the long garage and shouted, “Stan, phone call from the big house, can you go see m'lord up at the old ice house about 3pm? I told him you would, as we have caught up with the work on his gamekeepers van. I said you would drop it off.”

“Cheers mate!” I grin and thump the middle board into place while Ted jumps up and down on it at the same time.

The bell rings and Ted goes off to the fuel pump. I sit for a breather leaning on the headboard. There's a song-thrush blasting out its tune from the top of a chestnut tree and a slight breeze is swishing the leaves of the old ash and oak trees up on the top of the hill behind my garage.

The row of terrace houses that make the main street of the village bask in the sunshine, the frost evaporating in wisps. I like the beginning of spring; hope for the year! Justified or not, I don't know, as the news coming from Germany isn't good.

Ted wanders back with a pair of mugs and a bag in his hand. “your mum dropped this off for us!”

I look into it, 3 pieces of Parkin sitting warm in the bottom, it smells beautiful! I look up and Harold comes out with his mug and we all sit in comfortable comradeship.

My Lady · Part 1 (1/2)
Next