The Voyeur (6 page)

Phasing out as Mark talked, Anya considered each candidate in turn. Could she imagine herself sleeping with any of them? The simple answer was yes. Both Jayne and Clara had an air of something indefinably sexy about them.

Jayne was dressed smartly in a skirted suit; russet, cropped hair framing her freckled face, making her appear younger than her 32 years, and the more Anya studied her, the more she speculated about what it might be like to be kissed by her lightly glossed lips.

Meanwhile, the equally smartly suited Clara’s ice-blue eyes were flicking from Mark to Anya and back again. Anya observed how still she sat, how composed she appeared, and how she only let her gaze linger on Anya when Mark was paying attention to one of the other women. Is it possible that the blonde has weighed Mark up already?

The third interviewee was another matter. Elizabeth was firing questions at Mark, her expectations of how a housekeeper should be treated obviously very set in her own mind. Anya already knew Elizabeth wouldn’t be getting the job. Gorgeous she might be, with impeccable qualifications, but the new PA’s theory about her being more dominatrix than submissive were confirmed the moment Elizabeth had begun to speak. Although Anya could easily imagine herself on the receiving end of the older woman’s whip, there was no way she could picture her playing the role that Mark required.

‘Well, ladies, I have now outlined the more orthodox side of the housekeeper’s job. As you will have realised from Anya’s advert, however, there are additional duties that accompany this post.’

Anya felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. This is it. This is when he tells them what he really wants. She braced herself for some disapproving looks as Mark continued, telling them, just as he’d told her at the office at Bridge’s, that he had an ambition to have a staff who would willingly fulfil his sexual fantasies, and that regular semi-submissive sex orchestrated by himself, and with his PA (Anya felt herself colour a ruddy scarlet), would be required.

No one spoke. Mark paused for a few seconds, giving time for his words to sink in, then said, ‘Anya and I will leave you for a few minutes. If, in the light of this new information, you are no longer interested in the job then you may leave. All your expenses will be repaid, and you can rest assured that we won’t bother you again.’

Perched on the edge of an armchair in the luxurious living room, Anya felt her throat close in on itself. She swallowed hard, trying to relieve the pressure. The enormity of what was actually happening seemed to engulf her. If any of those women stayed, then she was going to
have
to like her. There was no choice. Not if she wanted to stay with Mark, and she found that she did. It had already become a challenge to make him be the one to lose control.

Waiting in silence, the air between employer and employee felt more highly charged than ever. How does he always appear so calm? Anya bought herself up short. How can I think like that when I’ve only met him twice? Perhaps he isn’t always this in command of himself? Somehow Anya suspected he was, though.

Mark’s assured voice broke through her ponderings. ‘I heard the front door close. It appears that they’ve had long enough to make their decision.’

Anya inclined her head in response; her throat still felt too dehydrated to risk speech as Mark pulled himself away from the wall against which he’d lounged. ‘Shall we see if there is anyone left to interview?’

Brushing imaginary flecks of dust from her skirt, Anya got up, aware that despite her urgent masturbation session in the shower her thighs had become hot and sticky all over again. Although Mark hadn’t said what the interview process would involve, Anya suspected there would be more to it than enquiries about the candidates’ previous employment record and personal career goals.

Anya’s heart was reverberating so loudly in her ears that she suspected other people would be able to hear it. Following at a safe distance, she held her breath as Mark pulled open the dining room door.

Relief coursed through every fibre of Anya’s being. Only one woman remained. Just one. Not only did that mean she wouldn’t have to begin her search all over again, but it meant her hunch had been correct, and she had won the bet against Mark.

‘Miss Hooper. Thank you for staying.’

Clara’s intense blue eyes turned to Anya rather than Mark, even though he’d been the one who’d spoken. Anya contemplated how Mark might react to this, as she felt herself being mentally undressed by the woman who was sitting statue still at the dining table.

Mark seemed amused rather than put out. ‘Anya is very pretty, isn’t she? I’m sure you’ll look good together.’

The almost-housekeeper didn’t reply, but smiled serenely as if in agreement, sending Anya’s crotch from tacky to sodden. It had been far too long since she’d been with a woman and, faced with the shapely, pale-skinned blonde, Anya hoped it wouldn’t be too long before that situation changed.

‘Perhaps you would be so kind as to accompany us to the living room for the more informal part of your interview?’ Mark held open the dining room door, and Clara rose from the table. Anya followed her from the room, her eyes appreciating the subtle yet, she suspected, deliberate sway of hips beneath the navy A-line skirt.

It had only been minutes since she’d last been in the living room, but it already felt like hours as Anya’s imagination skipped forward to what might happen next.

Until that moment she hadn’t noticed how much the aroma of leather and beeswax hung in the air from the highly polished furniture. Anya felt as if every sense in her had been heightened as she considered what Mark was planning.

‘Please could you both kick off your shoes and go to the middle of the room?’

Clara and Anya exchanged a brief questioning glance as they did as Mark said, hovering side by side surrounded by the square of comfy chairs and sofas. Walking around them in a slow circle, he studied every inch of them carefully, as if considering a great many different options of potentially erotic interest.

Stopping directly before them, Mark took each girl by the shoulder and pivoted them so they were back to back, their bottoms meeting, their hair mingling, as their heads were positioned against each other.

Mark took three steps back, his eyes narrowing as he studied them further. Then, after what seemed like an eternity to Anya as her body reacted to the presence of the woman behind her, he sat on one of the sofas and crossed his arms, a satisfied smile playing at the corner of his lips, lighting up his ever-deepening dark eyes.

‘Anya, you are to be congratulated. Your search for a suitable housekeeper has been a fine achievement in your first week of work. You even got my height requirement exactly right.’

Clara appeared confused, but held her tongue, her body beginning to sway slightly.

‘Whether Miss Hooper gets the job, however, will depend on how she performs during this interview.’ Mark’s eyes roamed over every inch of the newcomer as she did her best to remain still, supporting more and more of her weight against Anya. ‘I think it is only fair to repeat at this point that if you wish to leave at any time Clara – if you think I ask too much – you are at liberty to leave. You are a slave, but you are not a prisoner. I will ask much of both you and Anya, but the choice to stay with me, unless I have sound reasons to dismiss you, is yours and yours alone.’

Wishing Mark would hurry up and tell them what he wanted them to do, Anya licked her lips, trying to get some moisture back into them, convinced that she couldn’t have any lipstick left around her mouth by now.

‘Take one step forward each.’

The women obeyed, both immediately feeling bereft of contact.

‘Now turn to face each other.’

Although there was a two-metre gap between them, Anya could feel the texture of the air that circulated around them as they regarded each other. They hadn’t even shared a proper conversation, yet Anya felt she knew exactly what Clara was thinking, because she was thinking precisely the same thing. Please hurry, Mark, I want to see her naked.

Sure that he was taking his time just to add to the tension, Anya did her best to bite back her desire to beg Mark to speed things up, feeling very conscious of her hands as they rested limply by her sides.

‘Strip.’

Anya, mindful of how clumsy she had felt when she’d taken off her clothes for Mark in the office earlier, took her time. She made sure every move was measured and sensuous in the face of Clara’s crystal gaze, which never left Anya’s hands as they disposed of each item of clothing.

In turn, Anya’s own eyes were firmly fixed on the blonde who, as before, appeared to be managing herself perfectly. There wasn’t even a hint of unease as she peeled off her suit before, pausing for a fraction of a second for Anya and Mark to savour the vision of her silky black underwear and stockings, she finally unzipped her long, black boots.

Both in their underwear, the women drew a mutual sigh of appreciation, each noticing how tightly the other’s chest was secured beneath its bra. Moving as one, their lingerie hit the floor, so that only their suspender belts and stockings remained in place.

Mark’s hoarse voice dripped approval as he interrupted their show. ‘Leave the stockings.’ A spark of triumph tripped down Anya’s spine. She might not have turned him on alone, but with Clara it might be possible to arouse him after all, if the tone of her boss’s voice, and the deeply etched expression of lust on his face, was anything to go by.

The pause before his next instruction felt longer than ever, and Anya began to think that, despite the fact she’d won the wager, and Clara had stayed rather than Jayne, Mark was punishing her anyway. Punishing her by making her wait a brain-aching amount of time before she could lay a finger on the other woman.

‘Take a step forward.’

Both women took a stride rather than a step, each keen to feel bodily contact again. In that moment Anya saw why Mark had been so insistent about the housekeeper’s height. She felt as though she had been hotwired through the nipples, as her darker breasts lined up precisely with Clara’s light almond tips.

As they rubbed together, Anya had to battle to remain still. The need to move, to stimulate the blissful pressure of flesh against flesh, was intense. Clara’s feet shuffled an inch forward, sending instant prickles of lust through her new colleague.

‘I don’t believe I told you to move, Clara?’ Mark’s tone was heavy with disappointment, and Clara blanched, hanging her head in shame. ‘However, I will overlook the infraction this time, assuming you want to complete this interview. Yes?’

Lowering her gaze further, Clara nodded obediently, the movement of her head sending fresh, prickling jolts of stimulation through Anya.

‘Very well.’ He seemed content with the newcomer’s subservient poise. Taking an audible inhalation of air, he said, ‘You may touch each other. You may kiss.’

The girls didn’t have to be told twice. Wrapping her arms around Clara’s waist, Anya drew her in closer. The tops of their stockings caught together as Clara’s hands came to Anya’s hair, her nails scratching her scalp as she pulled the PA’s face as close as humanly possible to her own as they kissed.

Forgetting all about Mark, all about listening out for further instructions, Anya lost herself in Clara. Her fingers visited as much of the other woman as she could reach without sinking to the floor. She revelled in the firmness of her small tits, in the smoothness of her neck and stomach. Anya trailed her nails over Clara’s back and arms, cupping her pussy with her palm, before pulling it away and lapping off the juice she found there with lingeringly deliberate movements.

In return Clara feasted on Anya, leaving no inch of skin untouched, dipping a finger in and out of her channel and then smearing the resulting moisture over her neck and face, prior to lapping it up.

After a few minutes Mark calmly walked up to the women. Physically separating them he, still fully dressed, came between them, dropped his trousers and boxers, giving them both their first view of his impressive cock. Seconds later, their tits were being liberally coated with this spunk.

‘You have the job, Clara.’ He pulled up his clothes, obviously cross with himself for his unexpected lack of self-control. ‘Anya, show her to the kitchen.’

Chapter Six

Mark rocked back in his chair, his eyes shrewdly assessing the impact of their reminiscence on Clara. It had never been discussed, but he knew the girls had formed a bond. It could have been love. It could have been mutual lust and understanding. To Mark, there wasn’t a lot of difference between the two emotional concepts.

‘I appreciate that after so long not talking about how you came to be here, Anya, it must have felt strange explaining yourself in front of Clara. Especially as we have not touched on exactly
why
either of you continually choose to stay? I often consider why you didn’t leave with the others the day I interviewed you, Clara? I wonder what the other women thought of you for staying?’ Mark left the question hanging in the air, but Clara merely chewed on her bottom lip, unwilling or unable to answer as he continued, ‘But the reasoning behind my request for the truth of Anya’s arrival here to be made known to you, Clara, will become obvious very soon now.’

A cold sweat broke out on Anya’s brow. Why? Why did Clara have to know about Bridge’s? She knew better than to actually ask, however.

Mark sat upright, abruptly business-like. ‘Last night you successfully fulfilled the double-sided Fantasy 12. I was impressed, and have enjoyed observing both of you on the replays of the action. This means that one task on my list remains. Just one. Fantasy 13.’ Mark paced around his desk, his hands behind his back. ‘Everything you have experienced up until now has been leading to this event. An event I have spent many hours designing and planning, not to mention having to call in a few favours for its eventual fruition. It will require strength of mind, physical stamina, and bravery from each of you – although it will affect you both in different ways.’

The cold sweat moved from Anya’s forehead to her neck and beneath her chest. How on earth could anything require more stamina than what I experienced last night? And what precisely does he mean by saying he’ll “call in a few favours”? She had a horrible feeling that she now knew why she’d had to tell Clara about Bridge’s. Anya really hoped she was wrong.

Mark stopped moving, his inability to settle unnerving the girls further as they watched his uncharacteristic animation. Perching back on the edge of his desk, Mark exhaled slowly. ‘It may be of interest for you to know that, as well as ticking off each completed task against the lists upon your backs, I have also kept notes of your progress; including –’ he paused, making sure he had his employees’ full attention ‘ –points out of ten for your individual performances.’

Clara’s head snapped up, and for the first time in weeks she looked her boss straight in the eye. Anya stretched a hand out between the chairs and, without waiting for her employer’s permission, took hold of her partner’s hand, relieved that Clara didn’t shrug her off after learning about her brief period at Bridge’s.

Intrigued by, but choosing not to comment on, Anya’s move of reassurance toward Clara, Mark said, ‘I have decided that in order for you to complete Fantasy 13 to the best of your ability, you must redo those fantasies on the list where you scored less than nine out of ten.’

Talking across the girls’ combined sharp intake of breath, Mark went on, ‘I classed your first meeting at Clara’s interview as Fantasy 1. A simple pleasure, but the start of a very rewarding association between the three of us. I will never be able to get enough of you girls simply standing in front of each other, your breasts buffing up together. So that was a definite ten out of ten for each of you.’

Jumping up again, Mark moved with a care bordering on reverence to his desk. Taking a silver key from his pocket, he unlocked the drawer, and lifted out his battered A5 leather-bound book.

The girls knew all about the book in which Mark detailed his fantasies and recorded the scores he awarded them per task – scores he never shared with them – but until that moment, they had never actually seen its well-thumbed pages.

Mark caressed each page as he turned them, and it wasn’t lost on Anya that he’d probably spent more time over the last six months touching that book than her or Clara. Never before had Mark’s status as a voyeur been so transparent.

Trying her best not to panic, the fear of what Fantasy 13 held suddenly lessened by the prospect of having to relive some of the trials that Mark had subjected her to previously, Anya stole a glance at Clara’s face. The fact her lover was squeezing her hand tighter told Anya she was having similar disquieting thoughts of her own.

Having found the page he’d been searching for, Mark laid his notebook on the desk and, after a moment’s quiet study, looked up, his red pen to hand.

The girls flinched as Mark brandished the pen in front of them. ‘If you would be so kind as to take your tops off, I would like to study your backs.’

Standing, reluctantly releasing their clasping hands, the women pulled their shirts over their heads, and as they had done on 12 previous occasions, lined up next to each other, facing away from Mark and his felt tip pen. Clara jumped as he un-popped the lid from the pen, its small sound abnormally loud in the tense silence of the room.

Running a finger along the spine of each of his employees, Mark stroked the lettering rather than the women. The words “Fantasy 1” down to “Fantasy 12” were scribed in clear block capitals on the talented, supple, and always obedient servants before him.

‘Turn.’ Without hesitation, the girls faced each other, as they always did for Mark when he wanted to write against the lists they held, their tits just touching at the nipples as per the very first fantasy, causing them to stare into each other’s eyes, each willing the other not to move.

‘It only seems a moment since I wrote these lists upon your backs.’ Mark continued to caress his fingertips across each word, the light pressure from his rare contact with their flesh increasing the desire the women felt as their teats agitated together.

Anya recalled Clara’s first full day at work clearly. It had started with a tour around the kitchen, and ended with them positioned just as they were now, the red pen etching its way across their backs.

For two hours Mark made them wait, teat to teat, while he wanked himself off all over their thighs. Anya had marvelled at the time at his self-control, and his seeming preference to come all over them, rather than within them. She hadn’t understood Mark then. Now Anya thought she did; or she had done until this morning.

For six long months he’d been building them up to complete his final dream vision, but now both he and they was going to have to endure an enforced delay while they went through a host of action replays. It was as though Mark relished not only the voyeuristic element of his challenges, but the process of making himself wait as long as was humanly possible until he eventually saw them come to life.

The moist swipe of the marker met Anya’s back. Her body froze to a statute-like state, not daring to move and jog Mark’s writing.

‘I am putting a line under the tasks that you don’t have to do again.’ Mark said nothing more as he consulted his notebook.

Itching to know how many tasks that meant they were going to have to redo, Anya clenched her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms in an attempt to distract herself from the rising warmth between her legs.

Moving from his PA to his housekeeper, Mark took his time, until with a final, flourishing full stop, he threw the pen to one side before replacing his notebook in its special drawer.

Only when it was safely locked away, and the key was deposited back in his pocket, did Mark’s attention swap back to the half-naked women in his office. ‘Right! There is a time limit. All the tasks to be repeated will be tackled over the next two weeks.’

Communicating their mutual confusion, the girls stared into each other’s eyes, neither sure just how much was going to happen to them in the following 14 days. They hoped that such a short time span meant they hadn’t failed too many tests; neither of them had felt as much contact with the felt tip as they had wanted to.

Sitting back on his office chair, his usual chilled self once more, Mark topped up his coffee cup, and took a prolonged sip. ‘I can see the questions building up on your lips.’ His gaze sauntered from one woman to the other. ‘And yet you haven’t asked me any of them.’ Mark turned his attention to Anya in particular. ‘It seems that Fantasy 12 did you good. I was obviously correct in using the penultimate test as a form of punishment.’

The PA could feel the throb of her bruises increase under his critical gaze, and increased her resolve not to say anything, even though she still privately thought his accusations of her questioning him were extremely unfair.

Putting down his cup, Mark got to his feet. ‘There being little time before the scheduled Fantasy 13, I think that we should begin your reassessment straight away.’

Picking up the girl’s bras and tops, he chucked them at his employees, and watched with a quiet satisfaction as they covered up the words and numbers he’d added to their silky flesh. ‘I will see you in bedroom four in exactly one hour.’

Automatically the girls checked their wristwatches, understanding the importance of punctuality where Mark was concerned, as he continued, ‘You had a late night, so I will let you forgo your usual afternoon duties, and allow you to rest prior to the task ahead. You may go.’

They didn’t speak until they reached their dressing room. Anya could feel the throb of craving within her begin to be dwarfed by the fear of hearing Clara’s reaction to how she’d come to be in Mark’s employ.

There had been many times over the last six months when Anya had almost walked out of Mark’s home and her job. The only thing that had stopped her was the presence of Clara. It would have been strange to leave Mark and her bizarre lifestyle at Parker Software, but it would have been impossible to leave Clara; perhaps now was the time to tell her that. It had never needed saying before. Suddenly it seemed essential to explain to Clara how important she was to her.

Leaning against the door as it closed, blocking Clara’s only means of escape, Anya launched straight into her explanation. ‘I’m so sorry, I should have told you, it’s just that …’

Clara stepped up to her lover and put a finger over her lips. ‘Shush! It’s OK.’ She moved her hand and placed a kiss on her partner’s mouth. ‘You didn’t tell me because Mark told you not to, and anyway, as I said earlier, we agreed ages ago that it would be best not to discuss our previous lives – this is another world.’

Relaxing a little against Clara’s body, wrapping her arms around her, Anya smiled. ‘You looked so shocked, though. I was worried I’d upset you.’

‘Ahead of taking the job at Bridge’s, did you know what went on there?’

Anya pushed a stray golden hair behind Clara’s ear. ‘Not a clue. I mean, I’d heard rumours, but I had no idea they were true. It was damn prim and proper in that place; it was a shock when I found out the truth, I can tell you.’

Clara’s eyes twinkled with mischief. ‘You liked that cricket captain, though, didn’t you?’

‘Craig?’ Anya laughed. ‘He’s a first-class arse. So up himself and self-important.’

‘Hot, though?’ Clara lowered her hands to Anya’s waist.

‘Ish – but not as hot as you.’ Anya swallowed. ‘You do know how I feel about you, don’t you? You do know I …’

Clara didn’t let her finish her sentence, kissing her hard on the mouth before pulling back. ‘Of course I know; I do too, but let’s leave thing unsaid, shall we? Please?’

Anya nodded gratefully. This was how it should be. Changing the subject, Anya pulled at Clara’s shirt. ‘I half don’t want to see what’s on your back, but then again, I’m dying to know …Does that make any sense at all?’

‘Total sense.’ Clara’s fingers went to Anya’s blouse buttons. ‘I’ll look at yours, then you look at mine – right?’

‘Right.’ She watched as Clara drew her top off, taking her bra with it. Doing her best to ignore the chest she longed to touch, Anya rotated Clara round. ‘Oh fuck!’

‘What? What the hell is it?’

Anya stroked her fingers over the lettering, just as Mark had moments ago. ‘He’s underlined Fantasies 1, 3, 7, 9 and 11. There is a question mark next to Fantasy 4 – as if he isn’t sure whether you need to do it again or not.’

Clara’s voice was edged with dread. ‘Oh my God! That means we have to do half of them again! Plus Fantasy 13! Do you think they’ll be exactly the same this time, or will he make them even harder?’

‘God knows.’ Anya shrugged. The uneven exhalation of air shooting from her partner showed Anya how much Clara had been dreading that
all
the fantasies would have to be repeated.

Slipping her hands around to Clara’s breasts, Anya glided her fingers over her tiny nipples. ‘Well, I am certainly glad we haven’t got to do Fantasy 7 again. I hated that.’

‘Really?’ Clara was surprised. ‘I thought you liked people watching us together?’

‘I do, but it was so uncomfortable – and not nice uncomfortable, if you see what I mean! Crammed into that tiny swimming cubicle at the public baths. I could hardly touch you for the crush of onlookers. Not to mention being worried the entire time that we’d get arrested for public indecency!’

Clara laughed; she couldn’t help sharing in Anya’s relief, but her laugh was cut short as reality sank in. ‘Of course, the others we don’t have to do again were the easiest ones. The Fantasy 3 fuck in the gents’ bathroom at that cafe in Soho was a piece of cake.’

‘A delicious piece of cake, if I remember correctly,’ added Anya, ‘and let’s not forget the afternoon Mark invited his friends over for a game of poker, using us as the card tables. Apart from the effort involved in staying stock still so their drinks weren’t jogged, Fantasy 11 was pretty straightforward.’ While she spoke, Anya’s fingers increased their activity over and around Clara’s breasts, ‘You’re right, though, sweetie, the ones we aren’t doing again were the fantasies we couldn’t really get wrong.’

Mewling with pleasure, relaxing a little beneath her lover’s touch, Clara, her eyes closed, agreed. ‘And I don’t suppose we have to do Fantasy 9 again because there isn’t another dogging meeting in Oxfordshire until next month.’ Sighing, Clara took a step away from her partner. ‘If you don’t quit doing that with your hands, I’m not going to have the willpower to read your back so we can see if your list is the same as mine.’