Chapter 7
Dr. Helmuth Weirath looked up from the letters which he had unfolded and read, and smiled at his lovely red-haired secretary Jan Caldwell. "Very satisfactory returns to our last prospectus, Jan, I'd say," he chuckled.
"They do seem rather good, don't they, Helmuth darling?"
"Well, you deserve some of the credit, my dear." His left hand slyly reached out and caressed the voluptuous curve of one of her firm bottom-cheeks. Jan shivered, closed her eyes and moved just a little closer to give him complete access. "Yes, I really think you need a bonus, Jan," he went on. "The way you wrote that up was certainly mouthwatering. If I'd been a novice at the field waiting for the chance to meet people with my same interests and to watch exciting spectacles, I don't think I could have been any more stirred than I was when I read your letter and pretended to know nothing about this entire business."
"That's a very nice compliment, Helmuth. I do try to please."
"I know you do, my dear. I'm very fond of you. You know, it's amazing in some ways how much you have a-likeness to that lovely girl who was so stubborn last week. You remember her, the one who came from Los Angeles and answered your personal ad in the Oakland Tribune for a personal secretary?"
"It is uncanny, Helmuth."
His hand went on stroking her behind, and Jan Caldwell began to quiver and breathe more quickly now. while her face became flushed. Her eyes were closed, but her eyelids fluttered, and the wings of her dainty nose began to flair and to shrink, a sign that she was becoming emotionally stirred by his languorous manipulations. "In fact," he murmured, "for a moment there when that girl was on the stage, Jan, I almost thought it was you. And it was very exciting."
"You mean you'd like to have me as your slave, Helmuth? I think I am that already."
"Only psychologically, my dear. You haven't yet gratified me by demonstrating that you are willing to accept a semblance and the decor of servitude. It's a little thing, but it would be a wonderful proof of your loyalty to me. You are fond of me, aren't you?" At this point, his left hand moved around her side and haunch, and came to rest against her lower abdomen. Jan Caldwell uttered a stifled moan, and bit her lips, putting one palm on the desk to steady herself.
"Think it over, my dear," he went on in his most persuasive voice. "I think it would mean a wonderful new change in our relationship. And I am certain you would enjoy it as much as I should."
"You-you aren't going to take me out there on the stage and auction me to any of your friends or customers, are you, Helmuth?"
"What an incredible idea! After all that has gone on between us, my darling? I shouldn't be very thoughtful if I did that, should I? But don't have any worries, You're the girl I most depend upon, the only one I can trust, the only one I accept as an equal. That's why I don't see why it should be such a problem for you to agree to my proposal. The benefits you would derive would be enormous, and I should certainly show my gratitude in many tangible ways."
"Very well, Helmuth." Once again Jan Caldwell shivered, and by now she had both palms pressed down on the desk to balance herself. She opened her eyes with an effort and stared at his smiling face. His eyes were lecherous and gleaming, and she knew that he was excited at the prospect of seeing her in the costume of bondage and slavery. "Would it please you, Helmuth, if I did it right now?" she asked in a faltering voice."
"Enormously, my dear! And you would have a proof of my gratitude almost at once."
"Then-I'll do what you want. May I-may I be excused for a few minutes so I can come back dressed the way you want to see me?"
"Of course, my dear. I'll just enjoy a good cigar and think about the program for the next few minutes. Surprise me!" he smiled with a soft chuckle.
He leaned back in his swivel chair, puffing at his cigar, his eyes closed, his face serene as he contemplated the future. It was indeed very bright. It would also be financially magnificent. There were at least five new member applicants eager and willing to pay an extraordinarily large fee for the privilege of being accepted as guests and on probationary rank for the customary three weeks until all their references could be cleared and they themselves could have shown their congeniality to the group. There were always more applicants than there were openings for membership, he knew.
Yes, Jan Caldwell had been very valuable to him. But just the same, there was a wealthy amateur in Houston, Texas who was very anxious to buy a beautiful red-haired slave. Just supposing that he were to sell her, he would certainly get at least twenty-five thousand dollars-that was what the man had talked to him about on the phone yesterday morning. And it had been a good thing that Jan Caldwell hadn't been around at the time to intercept or eavesdrop on that call, or she would have discovered that her magnetic and dynamic lover was also a traducer.
Because Dr. Helmuth Weirath was very seriously thinking of considering that offer. Also, of inviting its maker to the next session of "Les Masques." What delicious irony it would be to have beautiful and gifted and intelligent Jan Caldwell up there on the stage with the spotlight beaming down on her, perhaps wearing only a bra, gauzy black nylon hose, and pumps. And to stand there as master of ceremonies wearing only a black satin robe and holding a whip, and making her strip absolutely naked and then go exhibit herself to any potential buyer-that would be paradise itself.
He had nearly finished his cigar when the door on his left which led to Jan Caldwell's own private office opened, and his red-haired secretary walked slowly in. She was blushing, her eyes were downcast, and her hands were clenched like fists at her side.
He held off opening his eyes so as to prolong the moment till the very last, like the true voluptuary he was. And then he had to gasp. Jan in her slavery costume was maddeningly enticing. She had put a gold slave collar around her neck, which had a soft ring at the front to which if need be a hook-on leash could be snapped. She wore a black leather sleeveless tunic, which took her from the throat down to the waist and very snugly. To cover her pussy, she wore a pair of black rubber panties, skin-tight and shaping out her behind in the most lascivious way, and then she wore black opera-length mesh hose high on her thighs, held up by tiny tabs which hooked to the thin rubber sheet of her panty tights. These were scandalously brief at the crotch, permitting the full length of the diaphanous stocking to be seen and appreciated by his glittering eyes.
And finally, Jan Caldwell had put on a pair of slave bracelets and anklets. Which were united together by a short chains to permit her to lay her arms down in front of her and to walk with tiny steps.
"You're magnificent," he breathed. "I've never seen submission expressed so well before. You should make a fortune posing for magazines in the field."
"No thanks, Helmuth. I'd rather pose for you and satisfy you. So long as you still desire me, that's all I live for." Now, in a kind of excess of masochism, Jan Caldwell suddenly went down on her knees, circled his crossed legs with her arms, and panted, "I've been awfully naughty, master! I think I ought to be punished."
She had knelt down now, leaning to him, and extended her shackled arms. On her face was a look of absolute submission. He thrilled to it.
"I don't recall you've done anything bad, Jan," he said studiedly.
"Oh, but I have! I mean, I'm jealous, I don't want you to take up with any other girl, and I don't like the way you sometimes ogle those married women members from the stage. Of course I haven't any right to think such thoughts because I can't marry you."
"Yes, those are possessive thoughts, and a slave shouldn't have them, I agree," he said sternly. "Will you leave the punishment to me or do you have some special suggestion, my new slave?"
She shivered, lowered her eye, and suddenly pressed her cheek against his leg. "I leave everything to you, my master," she said.
"Very good. Over there is a filing cabinet, as you know. It has a pair of doors which close it when we leave the office and make it look like a secretary rather than a cabinet. Suppose you go over there, open it up and in the second drawer you will find an old-fashioned wooden hairbrush. You're tall enough so you can just bend down and pick up the handle with your teeth and bring it over her to me and then tell me what you want to do with it. Of course you'll drop it when you talk to me, so after you've told me what you want, you'll pick it up again with your teeth also. Then you'll hand it to me and then you'll take the position. Is that all clear."
"Oh yes, master!"
Dr. Helmuth Weirath stared at her compellingly. He watched Jan Caldwell walk with mincing little steps, hampered not only by the high heels but also by the short chain lengths locking between the guise on her slim ankles, over to the cabinet-dresser, opening the paneled doors to each side, then pulling open the second drawer from the top, and then finally turning to her side, bending her head down into the cabinet itself and coming out with the hairbrush clutched in her mouth.