Chapter 8: The aftermath

"Do stay the night David," I pleaded when we at last arrived at my house. It had been a tiresome journey with delays and cancellations of the flights from Inverness so instead of arriving home at lunchtime it was seven o'clock in the evening. "It's a long drive and you're tired. You can miss a few hours more work." Eventually he reluctantly agreed.

"Jane," he said during a quiet time together that evening, "Jane, you know our relationship has to end now. In the morning we're back to work. You're in the customer service office in Ipswich and I'm in my director's office in Walsall. You are no longer a slave but part of the workforce here. Possibly we may never meet again. Your lifestyle and mine are far apart and besides I'm still smarting from Maisie's departure and am very loathe to form any sort of permanent relationship with a woman. We both knew these two weeks were a temporary thing and as such I could cope with that although I have to admit it didn't turn out quite as I expected, but it all has to end when I leave." I nodded gloomily. Why I should have feelings for this man who had hurt me so badly, I didn't know, but I did but I guessed he was right. It would have to end. There couldn't be any future in it for us together.

That night though I insisted we make love several times but at five in the morning he got up, dressed and kissed me good bye. For an hour I wept but finally got myself together and ready for Jenny to pick me up for work. I couldn't walk without showing some signs of my thrashing but I doubted anyone would notice. The cane stripes still showed vividly and indeed looked far worse than the pain from them. These were overlaid on the bruising which formed a purplish background colour.

Matty and the girls were all eager to know how I got on and it was Matty that spotted I wasn't walking as easily as I should. "Did you get your botty smacked then?" she laughed.

"Once or twice," I tried to make light of it hoping that would be sufficient but I knew they weren't going to let it stop there. However I didn't tell them what happened or at least not more than hints of the first smacking I'd had.

"Show us," demanded Kathy.

"Give us a mooney," Matty suggested, "Just a quick one will be enough." I knew I daren't even do that. Fortunately Sylvia sent us to our workstations but I sat down rather too quickly on the hard chair and uttered a little cry, which Matty picked up on and gave me a worried glance.

During our mid-morning break, always two people were left to man the phones. Customers who called during that time frequently had to wait on hold for longer but we got our break time. I volunteered to be one of the two thinking that if I was talking to a customer while they were free, I wouldn't be harassed. Sarah, the other break-time operator, and I took our break fifteen minutes earlier than the rest and when I came back two girls gripped my arms and dragged me to my desk and bent over it. Matty came up behind me and undid the button of my trouser suit and pulled the trousers and my knickers down at the same time.

"Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed, "Did he do that to you? That was no spanking that was assault. You should sue him." The others crowded round ignoring the phone lines and firing questions at me. I was in tears and Matty gently covered my arse again and held me. Janet took over my job and paired up with Sarah on the phone lines. Silvia had come in to see what the fuss was about and in her motherly way told Matty to take me to the ladies and clean my face up. When I returned there was a cushion from her office on my chair. I knew everyone was dying to ask me questions but were too shocked to do so. In any case we were kept busy answering the phones. Matty tried to get me to talk at lunchtime but I clammed up.

Three times over the coming few days I phoned David at his office but Ann Carstairs, his secretary said, "He is unavailable at the moment." On the fourth try, she told me, "I'm sorry Miss Beeson, Mr. Furlough has told me not to put through any calls from you." She sounded genuinely apologetic.

Three days after my return to work I received two cheques from him, both for £500, one for the charity account and a personal one for me. There was no accompanying note. When I handed the charity cheque to Matty who was handling the donations from the customer support office, she commented, "So much for his £1,000 plus offer. I don't see any plus for what you went through."

"He's probably got other things on his mind," I said but I didn't know why I was trying to defend him. Perhaps his arse was still too sore, more likely I guessed this was to be a short fling and after Maisie he didn't wish to get into a permanent relationship. I emailed him a short thank you note but decided not to add anything more personal. "If he wants to end it all, fine. I'll do the same," I told myself, "After the thrashing I received I should have nothing more to do with him." I wanted to believe that but somehow I couldn't. All I could do was think and brood over the times we'd had together.

Saturday evening found me sitting in front of my computer wearing my slave dress and looking at the pictures of the trip. Tears were streaming down my face when the doorbell rang. Quickly I pulled a robe over my dress and answered the door. Matty stood there. My face must have told her that I wanted to be alone but she pushed past me and went into the lounge. "Jane," she started, "You're going to tell me the full story even if I have to sit here all night. I thought I was your friend and a friend who is here to help you get through the trauma of your trip." She spotted the legs of my slave dress showing below my robe and recognised it from the picture I'd sent. "Take your dressing gown off slave," she ordered. She can be forceful at times. "Wow, that's enough to get any man rock hard. Turn round." When I did so she carefully lowered my trousers so she could see the welts. They still showed although they weren't as fiery or as sore now. She touched them and almost automatically I flinched. Gently she massaged my arse and slipped her hand between my legs. "You're very wet," she remarked casually, "You've been thinking of him and playing with yourself." I didn't confirm or deny it but again I couldn't control the flow of tears. She pulled me to the couch and cuddled me. "You are going to tell me what happened. I promise it won't go any further and I won't even tell Ken."

Eventually the story came out and I showed her the pictures including the ones of his sore arse. "You love him don't you?" she observed when I finished and we sat with a glass of wine. Although I hadn't put it that way, in my mind I knew she was right. "Give him a little while and if you get no response and you still feel the same way about him, scheme a way of talking to him again and see where it leads."

Work seemed a tiresome bore and I'm sure some of the customers didn't get the service from me they expected but my mind was elsewhere. My heart leaped when on a Friday nearly three weeks after my return there was an email from him. The message was terse. 'Go to the Volkswagen garage on Main Road. They have something for you. Apologies for delay." I went on Saturday and waiting for me was a nearly new Polo. Only a small car but that would suit me fine for in town driving. I just had to sign a few papers and I could drive it away. I emailed my thanks and said, "Dear David, Thank you for the lovely car, it will be my pride and joy but for a tip on top of what you've paid for my services, it was far too big a gift. The salesman wouldn't tell me the cost but it must have been £7,000 or more. Sorry David but while I appreciate what you have done, such a large gift, even though I guess you can easily afford it. I will pay you £500 now from the money I earned during the fortnight and pay the rest from my monthly salary. I will phone on Monday about this so I trust you will then accept my call. Love, Jane"