The Fairground Ch. 03

The slave sat in awe of Her as She worked around him quickly and with evident purpose. He felt heady and high from his imprisonment and wanted to close his eyes and sleep, knowing that wonderful dreams would envelop his mind immediately. She un-strapped the straight jacket and peeled it away from him, gently, but left him clothed in the Zentai body suit; the hood sitting clumsily under his chin.

"Don't sleep yet, my slave..." She purred, "... we are not there yet."

The slave had no idea where She was taking him and he really had no reason to care. He had lost his clothes, his money and his phone; but yet again She had subjected him to a most delicious containment experience and he loved Her for it, even more so than he had a few short hours ago. She continued to redefine his need for Her and he knew She revelled in his all-consuming desire to be with Her at all times. She understood every aspect of his mind, body and soul and knew they belonged to Her; yet She continued to reward him. He could only hope that this was a direct pleasure for Her. After all, She was his Mistress; She was his Goddess.

-0-

The gypsy hummed along to himself as the large van chugged along the country lanes from the fairground. He recognised the roads well, even through the poor evening light. However, at a junction in the road he almost missed the turning he should take and the vehicle veered suddenly to the left. He just hoped She had finished Her tasks in the back of the truck otherwise he would surely feel Her wrath, again.

The van pulled in along a dirt track which led up to an old yet distinctive house. Dogs barked somewhere off in the distance. Bringing the van to a halt just outside the side entrance to the house the gypsy jumped down from the cab and rushed to open the rear shutters.

The slave had no idea where they were but felt entirely protected in Her presence. She was his security and She would look after him, he was sure of that, despite his currently heightened and altered state. She snaked around him at the sound of the shutters opening and moved to the back of the van. As the rear of the vehicle opened out onto the dim light of a fading dusk he heard Her speaking to the man he recognised from the ride at the fairground. The slave wondered if this person, this gypsy, had also been enslaved by his Mistress at some point; whoever he was he obviously followed Her instructions precisely and obediently.

"Watch him for Me!" She directed the gypsy as She jumped down out of the van and moved towards the house.

"Alright, mate?" The gypsy looked in on the slave, without regard for any response.

The slave continued to lay on the rubber floor of the van in his skin-tight suit, exhausted from his ordeal and quite unable to move of his own volition. He could have tried to run, now, but it would have been totally pointless. He knew his legs would fail him, even if he tried; and, besides, he just had to be in close proximity to Her; now more than ever.

-0-

As She made Her way to the house Her movements tripped a sensor and a bright over-head light cast it's startling whiteness over Her. She frowned, lowered Her head and strode forwards regardless.

Having replaced the leather gloves, She flexed Her fingers, as the long leather coat tails swished against the stride of Her leather dressed legs. She reached an old, weathered door and thumped onto it with Her leather fist. The small window to the side showed evidence of light from within and a shadow fell as someone neared slowly towards the other side of the beaten door.

"Come on, you old bastard!" She yelled. "Open the door!"

A bent, ruddy faced, old man; loosely clothed in a moth-eaten cardigan, brushed-flannel shirt and tatty grey trousers; huffed as he heaved open the heavy door. She sighed at him as She studied his face, recognising that he was clearly intoxicated, again.

"You old drunk... Take your time, why don't you!" She snapped at him.

The old man ignored Her and stepped out into the cooling night air.

"Stop moaning, woman!" He grumbled under his breath.

"Is everything as I ordered?"

"Yes... Yes!" He replied, sucking his teeth as he walked along the path ahead of Her.

The two forms blended into the shadows as the gypsy sucked on a slim cigar, carefully watching Her. He had never really understood Her power over him but had felt Her wrath on more than one occasion before. Now he was totally at Her disposal and always carried out Her demands, whenever She issued them. She could manipulate him, easily, at Her every whim and he wanted to hate Her for it. But he didn't - he simply admired Her.

-0-

The old man stepped aside in his tartan slippers and allowed Her entry into the building he had just unlocked. She held out Her gloved hand waiting for him to drop the key into Her palm. He reluctantly obliged, sucking his teeth again as he turned away leaving Her alone.

"You have ten minutes, woman, before I let the dogs out again!" He growled.

"Impertinent old git!" She scowled, sticking Her tongue out behind his back.

She moved quickly, flicking on the light just inside the door and removing Her long leather coat. She pursed Her lips together and let out a long, shrill whistle in the direction of the van, just loud enough for the gypsy to hear. She knew he would respond to Her signal and turned away from the door.

Upon entering the building She heard the pointed metal heels of Her boots clicking against the hard stone slabbed floor of the large and spacious hallway. Her eyes scoured the space directly surrounding Her and She was pleased to see that it had been furnished exactly to Her exact requirements.

Moving back towards the door She heard the gypsy approaching and went to meet him at the threshold. He must not enter this place; Her space. He would never see inside this building, ever.

The gypsy struggled with the slave as he carried him along the dirt path towards the sliver of light that was shining out from between the hedgerows. He had no idea there was a second access point to the big old house here. The entrance was totally obscured from view along the main path and from the road. He strained to look inside through the door as She swept the slave into Her own arms and steadied him, blocking the gypsy's view.

"That's all for tonight, Sean," She flicked Her head dismissively, "Go home!"

Before the gypsy could argue She had turned on Her heels and was inside without another word. Just as he drew breath to sarcastically comment about his payment for services rendered the door slammed shut in his face. She was gone.

-0-

The slave felt woozy and tired. His mind swam with visions from the waltzer, the Hall of Mirrors and memories from within his time inside the box. He felt weak and lifeless as he remained slumped in Her arms. She seemed so physically powerful to him now. She moved him swiftly across the stone floor and onto a large black leather sofa which seemed oddly positioned in what was obviously a broad hallway of some kind. The slave didn't care. He just wanted to curl up and sleep now. She hooked up his legs and positioned him on his side, propping his head with a large soft cushion. Then, in a moment of tenderness She crouched down beside him and stroked the side of his face with Her fingertip; leaning in as if to almost kiss him. His eyes were already closed. He felt Her breath on his face as sleep finally engulfed him.

-0-

The building itself was a more recent addition to what had once been the old man's property. The main house and surrounding acres had originally been a farm many years before. The old man had given up his decades of agriculture in favour of alcohol and gambling. He had been most grateful, for the payment and promises he received for his troubles when this mysterious woman called on him years before.

The whole farm had been sold to a mystery buyer six months later. Mistress had made all the arrangements and the old man was granted special rights to remain living in the old farmhouse, where he had lived all his life, until the day he died. He had become a lonely lodger here and his only companions were Her guard dogs, which were numerous and practically wild. Even the old man feared them a little. And so, he lived his life in solitude until such times when this woman, whom he secretly admired, should take it upon herself to use the new building She had so carefully created. She floated in and out of his life like a ghost.

The hidden construction was Her brainchild and She had planned it for many years. She had blackmailed a successful businessman; but had not exploited him for money. Instead, She forced him to commission the construction of this wondrous building, to Her exact specifications. Her target carried out Her demands to the letter through numerous third party architects, engineers and construction companies. The Mistress was never compromised or named in the process at all. Cleverly, She had directed the whole operation from the initial point of blackmail through to the final completion of the building and it had been a totally worthwhile and rewarding plan. The final treasure arrived on the day She threatened to reveal the businessman's fetishes to the press and he had, albeit reluctantly, arranged for a number of legal documents to be created proclaiming the whole farm, including Her building, as solely Her property. She was, of course, delighted and, after careful consideration, She named the new construction 'The Den'.

Local planning constraints had required that The Den be designed, specifically, so that when viewed from the road it lay invisibly hidden within the green pastures and countryside all around it. The building had to be camouflaged and concealed, and this suited Her needs wonderfully. The doorway was obscured from the main track and from the house. This construction had been Her sole target and ambition. Now, She loved it more than She ever thought was possible.

-0-

She stood in the entrance way of The Den, Her hands on Her hips, looking down on Her slave. Her neck was stiff lifting him in and out of the box and helping him through into the hallway. She slowly moved Her head in soft circles; Her vertebrae clicking occasionally.

Realising that Her slave would remain asleep for a short while She moved along the entrance way and opened a large dark wooden door. As She stepped through the doorway automatic lighting twinkled to life overhead and She pursued Her path along a curved slope downwards. Her heels fell silently along the hallway as they padded softly into the cushion of expensive carpet.

At the end of the bowed hallway She reached another door. This one was large and slightly different from the wooden door at the top of the ramp; this door was large, heavy and black. She stroked the carved initials embossed into the wood; Her initials; and reached into Her pocket for a small black fob. Having swiped the plastic item against the device on the wall the door sprung open and She entered Her domain. There was a smell of freshly cut flowers in the air and a crispness of undisturbed tidiness. She smiled. Only Her trusted cleaner had entered this building since She had last visited, and She appreciated the selection of blooms which had been placed strategically around Her.

The room was huge and well lit from an array of hidden soft lighting. A fire crackled away in a huge hearth and there were various other comforts around Her. She moved to Her stereo and pressed a small silver button feeling the swathe of gentle music fill the air. She removed Her gloves and laid them on the bar as She moved behind it to pour herself a drink. The vodka twinkled in the light as it rippled into the bottom of Her glass. She swallowed it down and smiled another contented smile to herself. Again She eyed the room. Soft lighting and expensive furnishings filled it, all well placed and designed. Everything had been chosen to meet Her own exquisite tastes. No windows. No distractions. Erotic works of art hung from the walls and various sculptures were positioned in numerous locations. A second large leather sofa sprawled along one wall of the room; situated directly opposite a huge plasma screen. Behind Her bar, recessed into the wall, was a long and well lit fish tank, holding an array of tropical fish, all content in their sumptuous surroundings.

She picked up a slim remote control and pressed one of the numerous buttons. Immediately the large screen in front of Her was filled with the image of Her slave still sleeping soundly on the hallway sofa, exactly where She had left him. He had not moved. She was pleased to see him sleeping now. He would need his rest, for later. She pressed different buttons on the control and further images flashed before Her. Empty rooms, undisturbed and ready for Her use. Finally, She pressed the '0' on the key pad and an image of the old man flashed onto the screen. There he was, asleep, in his favourite chair, drool running from the corner of his mouth and his half empty glass resting on his stomach, in his hand.

She poured herself another shot and swallowed it down, and carefully contemplated the rest of the night ahead of Her.