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Victoria found a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket in the back of the limousine, with a chilled glass already apparently waiting for her.
The limousine drove for what seemed like a couple of hours, and now all she could see out of the windows as she sipped on another glass of champagne, was the English countryside. The car soon turned onto a long gravel drive that seemed to go on forever. It was dark outside, but as the car turned another bend she saw a Gothic-esque mansion that looked to be at least couple of hundred years old. It was lit from the base and Victoria could just make out some windows with lights in them. As the car drew closer Victoria was able to gauge the size of the place, it was truly massive. It seemed to stretch back far into the landscaped grounds, and its four turrets on each corner made it all the more imposing. She estimated there must have been at least a hundred or more rooms in the place. Victoria shifted in her seat, as the smell of the leather within the car added to her sense of luxury. Whoever lived in this house, she thought, he was seriously rich.
As the car came to a halt in front of the main entrance, a butler came out and walked her into the house. His accent was of the well-spoken old English type you seldom heard in the country anymore; she'd only really experienced it when watching old black and white British movies. He introduced himself as Perkins, and Victoria was pleased that at least he didn't speak French, as far as she knew.
“Why exactly am I here Perkins, who booked me for this show?” Victoria asked the butler, as he led her through and into the reception area, although to call it a reception area was something of an understatement. The floor was of white marble and the staircase had two flights leading up to the mezzanine. Old paintings - obviously of family members long past - adorned the walls, wearing strange clothes from another century.
“The master has been following your career avidly Victoria. He feels you are missing something in your life.” Said Perkins cryptically, as he led her into an adjoining room.
“Missing something? Missing what?” She replied, “Just exactly what am I expected to do here?” Victoria asked, still more than a little perplexed. Perkins stopped and turned to face her,
“All w
ill become apparent in good time. But first you must give the master the show he has hired you for.”
Perkins then showed Victoria the lingerie she would be wearing; they were hung deliberately on a moveable hanger in the room, and were numbered from one to ten. It seemed to Victoria that the higher the numbers got, the more revealing the outfits were. Number one was floral and tasteful, yet they gradually got more and more revealing and sexy as the numbers got higher, with number ten - a black silk outfit with suspenders - leaving very little to the imagination; yet it still managed to be tasteful, which was something only the best lingerie designers usually managed to pull off.
Perkins told Victoria that the entrance to the stage was through a green velvet curtain she could see at the other end of the long high ceilinged room. She would know when to start as the music would cue her, and that was when she should make her entrance. With a slight bow, Perkins excused himself and told her to begin getting changed into outfit 'number one'. Victoria looked around her when Perkins closed the door. Whoever was behind that curtain waiting for her, must really want to meet her. The fee was no small amount for an hour, but judging by her surroundings, it may well be a paltry sum to the owner of the mansion. Changing into outfit number one, Victoria put on some make-up in front of the near-by dresser that had obviously been placed in the room for that nights purpose. She usually had her own make-up artists at her beck and call to do this work for her, but for fifty thousand dollars, she certainly wasn't going to complain. She chose hot pink as her lipstick color, it didn't exactly match all the outfits, but she really had no other choice, as her other lipstick colors didn't match any of the outfits at all. Victoria carefully put one of the hand-made chocolates that were on a silver tray into her mouth. The filling was unlike anything she had tasted before and she couldn't help herself give a slight moan of pleasure as the chocolate melted inside her mouth and the filling oozed over her tongue; sweet, but with a hint of something sharp that gave it a depth she never knew was possible with chocolate. There were only one pair of shoes in the room, and she guessed they must be for her. They were a pair of red high-heel shoes sitting beside the dresser. Slipping on the the first item of lingerie, she was surprised to find herself getting slightly wet. It seemed the surroundings and the soft touch of the silk on her body was having an unexpected effect on her already. It also astonished her that the high heel shoes were a perfect fit, Richard, her agent, must have informed them of her size, she figured.
Just then, Victoria heard music begin to play in the other room. It wasn't the type she'd expected, it had deep mellow and sensual tones. And it was her cue to begin. She knew that because of the music she'd have to slow down her her walk on the stage to an almost feline predatory speed. Victoria moved the curtain back and was hit by the rich smell of cigar smoke and the warmth of strong lights on her face. It was show time, and there was no time to think of anything except doing her job. She tried to see beyond her to who was watching, but could only make out a pair of crossed legs in black trousers and black leather shoes as the lights were too bright. Reaching the end of the catwalk that had obviously been especially made just for this performance, she posed and then walked back. She felt the silk thong move across her labia delicately, and it struck her that the underwear was slightly too small for her, which was leading to the effect of arousal in her body. Changing again, she took to the catwalk, but each time she did, she noticed the music had changed. As she walked and returned to change without a word being spoken to her, the music took on harsher but more excited tones, leading her to really feel a desire to let herself go.
Finally, she donned the last outfit, and it was slightly tighter than the rest and pushed her breasts up and out. The panties gripped the outline of her pussy, and as soon as she tried to walk she knew the silk rubbing on her was going to make every step of the way excruciatingly pleasurable. She paced up the catwalk, and reaching the end, gave a final pose; then finally... he spoke to her.
“My dear, that was a delectable performance.”
He spoke in an upper-class strongly English accent, his voice was calm and measured, putting Victoria instantly at ease. Still unable to clearly see him, he got up and walked towards the stage and held an open hand up, breaking through the darkness, inviting her to take it in hers as he helped her to step down from the catwalk.
Seeing him for the first time - as she was still standing there in the tight fitting lingerie - she saw he was a tall man, and his frame was broad chested and masculine, not exactly what she had expected. She had thought such a man who would pay for a private show with a model would probably be quite overweight, and definitely not much to write home about. Yet Philip Claringdale was most definitely something to write home about. To say he was a good looking man was putting it mildly, his dark hair was swept backwards from his noble brow, and his cheekbones and jaw jutted out in a manner that made him look like he was hew from a rock-face.
“Come with me.” He said, as he led her through to yet another adjoining room by the hand. Victoria wondered how many rooms within rooms there were in the mansion.
It seemed as if they were never ending, as she entered a room with a large lit fireplace already blazing in front of a white fur rug with two leather bound studded armchairs to either side, an ornate antique table and two glasses of champagne already waiting for them. Victoria sat down and felt the warmth of the fire on her still almost naked body, and crossed her legs. But it didn't occur to her to ask to change; somehow, she felt completely relaxed just as she was, although Phillip's dinner jacket and bow tie were quite the contrast to her suspenders and revealing lingerie.
Phillip sat back and lit up another cigar as he eyed her, not with a look of desire, but with a piercing gaze that looked right into her, as if searching for her very essence. He told her his family line had past on the estate for three centuries, and now he was the heir. Throughout three hundred years they had maintained a close relationship with the royal family, and this had led them to accrue assets and land worth billions. As he spoke to her with his glass in hand, she noticed Phillip trail off. He seemed to have something on his mind,
“What I haven't been able to find though, is the perfect woman. Do you know what the perfect woman is Victoria?” He asked, with his palm held out, inviting her to answer,
“Well, I suppose you mean beautiful and kind.” As she said that, Philip laughed, and waved his hand to-and-fro to indicate in the negative,
“Oh no Victoria. Such a woman is common and valueless to me. What I seek is a woman who knows how to be my slave, and yet at the same time retains her own character and independence.”
Victoria balked at the statement, yet it hit a nerve in her, but she was too scared to show him this; he went on,
“I have watched your career Victoria. And I pride myself on being able to notice a kindred spirit. I've seen the bored look on your face with many a handsome man on your arm. I know what you need Victoria, I know what you want and crave.”
Victoria looked into the flickering flames of the fire. She had to admit, most men did bore her, handsome or not, they were all the same. Turning her head to look at him again, and flicking her hair to the side, she decided to find out exactly where all this was going.
“So what do you suggest Phillip? Why am I really here?”
Phillip got up and walked over to a nineteenth century chest of draws, and pulled out a piece of paper and a diamond encrusted fountain pen, and sat back down on the chair, placing them both down carefully with a sense of ceremony.
“This is a contract Victoria. In this contract you will sign, you will agree to be my slave whenever you are here at Claringdale Mansion. But the choice to come here is entirely yours.”
Victoria almost spat out her champagne,
“Slave! You want me to be your slave! That's ridiculous!”
Philip leaned forward, taking her hand in his, and with his dark eyes focused intently on her, said,
