Simon Says

6

Bates, she knew, would have done as his employer had requested, and now it was even more difficult for her to face the servants. They were still outwardly respectful and polite with her, but as Simon had said, she could see the knowledge in their eyes. Or thought she could. The knowledge of what she had done with Bates. And perhaps of what else had transpired that evening. And the knowledge of Simon's vow, that each of them would also, at some point, be the recipient of her favors. She imagined she saw that awareness, that anticipation, in every look, every tone of voice, every movement they made in her presence. Her embarrassment was so great that she would have given anything not to have to deal with them at all. But of course she did.

A part of her could not believe, even after all that had passed, that Simon would actually demand that of her. But another part of her had no such illusions. It knew quite well that he could do so, and that he would, when it suited him. She tried not to think about it. But that was impossible. The hopeful part of her tried desperately to believe that the worst was over, that Simon, having tested her and trained her to be what he wanted, and having demonstrated his dominance over her, would now be content to keep her to himself, to bask in her love as she basked in his, needing nothing more. But the realistic part knew, without doubt, that this was hardly the case; that it was obvious that Simon loved her most intensely when she allowed him to shame her, degrade her, even hurt her; that he would go on doing that, with no prospect of an end; and further, that the shame and the degradation, and perhaps the pain too, were likely to increase and deepen as time went on, as his love demanded further proof of her obedience. And finally, that if she wanted to maintain the intensity of his love, which god knew she did, she would have to continue to submit to his demands.

But she had no way of knowing when those demands would come. Their life went on as before, with Simon giving her no cause for discontent. He ran the family business, but even though he was busy and sometimes distracted, he never made her feel neglected or lonely. Sometimes she almost forgot her apprehensions. But never completely. And the waiting, the wondering, the not knowing, was torture for her. Time and again she was on the verge of raising the subject with Simon, but she was afraid that doing so might precipitate the very demands she feared, or at least arouse his anger. So she kept silent.

Then one night, over dinner, Simon said, "I have to go to New York tomorrow, Elaine, for a business conference. I will be there overnight, but I should be back by dinnertime on Thursday."

"Can't I go with you, Simon?" she asked.

"I wish you could, darling, but I'm afraid it wouldn't be much fun for you, as I will be busy most of the time. But I don't want you to be lonely while I'm gone. There is no need for you to spend the night by yourself."

Her throat suddenly tightened. "What--what do you mean, Simon?" she got out. "I'm sure I'll be fine. You don't have to worry about me."

He smiled. "Nonetheless, I don't like to think of you all alone for a whole night, darling. So I want you to spend the night with Jason."

Although there was no food in her mouth at the moment, she had to swallow before she could speak again. "Ja-Jason?" she whispered. "The...the chauffeur?"

"Yes." Simon said. "The chauffeur."

Jason, the chauffeur, was a youngish man, lean and sallow, with a rather feral look that Elaine had always found offputting, and even a little frightening. Although he had never overstepped his bounds, there was something in his manner that seemed almost offensive to her. With him, even more than with the others, she shrank from the awareness that he knew what he did about her. And that he too was waiting for the day...

"Simon," Elaine began in a choking voice. She tried to stop herself, to say nothing, but she couldn't. She just couldn't. "Simon, please. Please don't. I...I can't...oh please..."

She couldn't bear to look at the expression on his face. She dropped her eyes and sat very still, not saying anything more. She was trembling.

Simon's voice was flat and hard. "You will have anal sex with him," he said.

She caught her breath. Her fists clenched involuntarily, but she knew better than to say anything more.

"You will also service him orally if that is what he wishes, but the anal sex must come first. And that is to be all. You will not allow him to use your vagina. Do you understand, Elaine?"

She swallowed again. "What--what if he--insists..."

"He will not. You are the mistress of the house, Elaine. He is your servant. He will do what you tell him, or allow him, to do, and that is all."

Her head was swimming. "Does...does he know?"
"About tomorrow night, specifically? No. You will invite him to your room and give him the good news. I am sure he will be pleased."

"And is he to...to spend the night...the whole night?"
"As long as the activity is limited to the things I mentioned, he may stay as long as he likes, provided he is available for his regular duties the next day. And there is one other thing, Elaine."

She waited, numb.

"I want this activity to be filmed."

She stared. "Filmed?"

"Yes. So that I can see it when I come back. I will set up the camcorder for you, so that all you will have to do is turn it on. After that you can ignore it and concentrate on pleasing Jason. For I do want him to be pleased, Elaine. You do understand that?"

Her voice was so low he could hardly hear her when she said, "Yes, Simon." .
He had set the camcorder on a tripod in a corner of the room, pointing at the bed, at the most advantageous angle, she supposed, to take in the action. He had showed her how to turn it on, and told her it would film for about two hours and then stop automatically.

She sat on her bed and looked at the camera, which was not yet running. She was to turn it on when Jason came in. And it was time now to call him. No later than eleven, Simon had said. It was almost that now. She was wearing only a robe, in order to minimize the ordeal of undressing before him. Perhaps, she thought, she could even keep it on. But what was the use? He had already seen her naked, they all had, that first day...

Elaine closed her eyes. Why was she doing this? she asked herself. Because she had no choice. But of course she did. She could refuse. What would Simon do? He might whip her again if he was angry enough, but if she continued to resist his demands he would probably just withdraw. As he had told her that night during their honeymoon, she would kill his love for her. Again she wondered what kind of a love it was, that was based on her submission and degradation. Why did she need that love? Why didn't she just leave? She could leave right now, pack up and move out, go away, whatever. She would be her own person again. She would be free.

And she might never see Simon again.

She would lose him forever.

That thought was unbearable.

She was trembling alightly as she got up and moved to the intercom that connected to the servants' quarters. Slowly she picked it up. Bates answered. "Yes, ma'am?"

She tried to keep the quaver out of her voice, not completely succeeding. "Bates, will you--will you ask Jason to come up to the bedroom, please?"

"Yes, ma'am." Was there a smirk in his voice? No, probably just her imagination. But of course he would know. Oh god.

In less than a minute there was a knock on the door. "Come in," she said. She stood in the middle of the room, willing herself to stop shaking, as Jason came in. He was in his uniform pants and shirt, but without his jacket and cap.

"You called for me, ma'am?" he said. His tone was neutral, as was his expression; but there was something behind it, a glint in his eyes, the hint of a suppressed smile. Oh, he knew, all right. Why else would she have called him here now? Anticipation glowed in him, behind the thin screen of respect.

She took a deep breath, fighting for dignity in the miasma of her despair. "Yes," she said, as steadily as she could. "My--my husband has directed me to--to have sex with you. Anal sex," she added, feeling stupid and foolish now in addition to her shame.

Jason's smile became more open, and the gleam in his eyes was stronger as they now boldly slid down over her body and back again. She wanted to sink through the floor. "I would enjoy that, ma'am," he said. She took a deep breath, and then she remembered the camera. She should have turned it on when he came in. She went to it now. "I have to--my husband wants to film this," she said. Jason looked surprised, but then he just shrugged. Elaine turned the camcorder on.

Now there was nothing to do but go through with it. As matter-of-factly as she could, though she had to force herself to do it, she took off her robe. Jason gazed avidly at her naked body, his tongue coming out to moisten his lips.

She moved to the bed and crawled onto it, positioning herself on her knees and elbows, her head on a pillow, her rear end thrusting into the air. "Get it over with," she wanted to say, but she didn't. Simon wouldn't like that. Simon wanted her to please him, not to be antagonistic. So she said nothing, just waited that way as Jason quickly got out of his clothes. She didn't look at him.

She tried to control her breathing as he approached the bed and got onto it. She indicated the bedside table, where she had laid out a tube of lubricating jelly. "Use that," she said, her voice sounding strange because of the tightness in her throat. Jason obeyed her. She went stiff as she felt his hands on her, applying the stuff to her anus, his finger probing obscenely. She bit at her lip and tried to will herself to relax, but it was not easy.

Then she felt the hardness of him against her buttocks. She drew in a long, quivering breath and closed her eyes. His hands spread her cheeks apart, and then his cock was probing at her tight hole, moving in slowly. Elaine gritted her teeth against the pressure, determined not to cry out, but she couldn't keep back the little whimper in her throat as he pressed forward against her sphincter. Jason may have thought it was a sound of pleasure. He gave a little grunt, and his hands reached around to grasp her breasts.

"No!" she gasped involuntarily. But as his hands dropped away she remembered the camera, remembered Simon's demand that she please him. Her vagina was off limits, but not her mouth, not her anus and, she supposed, not her breasts either. "I--I'm sorry," she panted. "It's--it's all right. I'm sorry."

Jason's hands returned then, cupping her dangling breasts and clasping them tightly, holding on to them as he pushed further inside her tight rear passage. The pain was severe now, and she couldn't hold back her cries; but again, she supposed, they could have been taken as sounds of passion rather than of pain. Although Simon would probably know the difference. Was there sound on that thing? Probably. But Simon wouldn't care if she was hurting, as long as she gave Jason a good time. With a moan of despair, she perversely pushed back at Jason for the benefit of the softly whirring camera, crying out again with the sharply intensified pain, but showing her husband that she was doing what he wanted, following his orders, pleasing the man he had foisted on her for the night. Jason was grunting as he thrust deeper inside her, and he gave a growl of satisfaction when he managed to bury himself to the hilt in her clutching anal canal. Elaine wanted to scream, wanted to sob, but she did neither. Instead, as Jason began to fuck her with short, jabbing thrusts, she did her best to move with him, pushing back, rocking back and forth to his rhythm. Her breathing was loud and harsh, and was broken, despite all she could do, by an occasional sob, but she moved, trying to make it good for him, trying to do what Simon wanted her to do. Jason's thrusts got faster and harder, his hands squeezing her breasts cruelly, adding to the agony that his relentless cock was inflicting on her, until finally he stiffened and climaxed with a triumphant shout, ejaculating again and again inside her ass.

She collapsed then, panting hoarsely and moaning, still trying to stifle her sobs, and he fell on top of her heavily. After a minute he rolled off and lay there as his own breathing gradually slowed. Her body still throbbed with pain. She wondered if he would go now. Simon had said he could stay if he wanted, but surely she was under no obligation to keep him there. Maybe he would be satisfied, maybe he would think that was all he was going to get, maybe...

Then she felt his hand on her thigh. Her instinct of course was to pull away, but she caught herself. Her eyes went to the camera with its glowing red light. She lay still.

"That was good, ma'am," Jason said. Was there an undertone of mockery, of smugness, even of sneering, beneath the courteous address? She was sure there was. "That was great," he added.

She said nothing. What was she supposed to say?

His hand moved slightly on her thigh. "You have a terrific body, ma'am, if I may say so," he asserted.

"Thank you," she forced herself to say. She couldn't stand this man. His looks, his manner disgusted her. But obviously he wasn't going to leave. Despair numbed her mind again. She could do nothing but wait.

He raised himself on an elbow, looking down at her. "I'd like to do that again, ma'am. Only the regular way this time. What do you say?"

"No," she said quickly. "I can't. My husband specifically forbade that." Thank god, she thought. But...

He looked disappointed. "Oh," he said. "So then...that's it, is it?"

Her heart sank. "What--what do you mean?"

"I mean he--your husband--he said I could only have you that one way? In the ass, and that's all?"

She had never wanted to lie so much in her life. But the camera was watching. Oh Simon, god...

She looked away from him. Again she had to force the words out. "You--you can..." She swallowed. "I can...use my mouth on you," she choked. "If you...if that's what..."

She didn't have to look at him to know that he was grinning. "Oh yeah," he breathed. "Oh god, yeah." He lay flat again. "Okay," he said. "I'm ready."

She noticed he had stopped calling her "ma'am." And why not, she thought. Why would you use such a term of respect to a woman who is about to suck your cock right after you have taken her in the ass? He seemed to have completely forgotten the camera, or at least not to care about it.

Elaine swallowed again. "Please--please wash it first," she said breathlessly.

For a terrible moment he didn't move, and she thought he was going to refuse. But then he rose and went out. She heard him going into the bathroom down the hall. She heard the water running. She didn't look at the camera.

In a minute he was back, lying beside her as before. "Okay," he said. "Clean as a whistle. Now go ahead."

Summoning all her strength, she willed her body to move down on the bed and crouch over him. Her lips were dry, and she moistened them with her tongue. She had to do it. She had to do it well. She had to please him, and Simon. There were tears in her eyes. She lowered her head and took him into her mouth.

He gave a little gasp and his hips arched. "Oh yeah!" he panted. "That's nice, oh christ that's nice!"

His penis, which had been only slightly erect after its washing, stiffened swiftly in her mouth. She took in as much of it as she could, and then proceeded to do her best to pleasure him, sucking him slowly at first, licking the underside of his phallus with her tongue as her mouth moved up and down, gradually accellerating her pace. She felt sick, and she was perpetually aware of the camera staring at her, its red light glowing mercilessly. Jason groaned and twisted and urged her on, and before too long he stiffened and shot into her mouth with a cry of triumph.

Elaine forced herself to swallow his sperm. She knew that's what Simon would want her to do.

Jason stayed with her most of the night. He could not get enough of her mouth. Again and again he requested that she suck him, and she had neither the strength nor the courage to refuse. Twice more, after she had sucked him to hardness, he took her anally; other times he came in her mouth. In between he played with her body, avoiding only her vagina. Elaine felt no arousal whatsoever, but she let him do what he wanted. Pleasing him for Simon, long after the light on the camera had gone off.

As the night went on all veneer of politeness wore away, and he began calling her names like tramp, slut, bitch. "Oh yeah, do that again, bitch," he would say. Or, "Christ, I love fucking you this way, you slut." The words stung, but nothing, she felt, could make her shame and humiliation any worse, any deeper than it already was.

Near morning he finally left. Elaine felt exhausted, and very dirty. She stumbled to the bathroom and started the water in the tub, then brushed her teeth for a long time while it was running. Her efforts did little to eliminate the rotten taste in her mouth, nor did the hot water erase the feeling of contamination on her skin. She finally fell asleep in the bathtub, crying.

.

When Simon came home, he insisted on watching the tape while having sex with her. Elaine could not look at it, but she couldn't help hearing the sound. It filled her with digust, even as she helplessly responded to Simon's lovemaking. He was fiery and passionate, but Elaine had the feeling that he was making love to the woman on the screen rather than to her. But that woman WAS her, she told herself. It was still her that he loved. In spite of the distractions, in spite of all her qualms, she came again and again in his arms.

Afterward he ran the tape again, and this time, at his request, she watched it with him.