Chapter 10 : Deanna & Darla

A week later George opened a letter and read it with some nervousness. "Mistress Erica has decided that you should have some further training this afternoon. Ensure that you arrive at 4 o'clock promptly."

He had to cancel a few appointments to clear his diary but he already knew that he had better do as he had been told. "Of course," he told himself, "she would understand if there was something I really couldn't change. Wouldn't she?"

When he got to the house, though, it was Deanna rather than Erica that answered the door. Whereas Deanna had been elegantly dressed for their first encounter, Erica looked as if she had just got out of bed after a night with not enough sleep. She had a short, cotton dressing gown clutched about her, a half smoked cigarette was hanging from one corner of her mouth and her hair looked as if it was providing a home for a small flock of birds. She took a deep drag from her cigarette, coughed and peered through bleary eyes at George.

"Oh, look," she said, "it's the freebie. Come on in. How can we help you? Is there anything at all we can do?" she asked with heavy sarcasm.

George gave an embarrassed cough. "I had a note," he said, "from Erica. Sorry, from Mistress Erica. Saying I should be here."

"Who's a good boy then?" she sneered. "Go on. Go through there."

George went off in the direction indicated by her disdainful finger. Rather than one of the playrooms used for their domination business, it was obviously Deanna's own room. Clothes were strewn everywhere, copies of magazines lay open on the floor, a half eaten bowl of cornflakes was balanced on the arm of a battered armchair.

"Strip off," Deanna announced. "Erica says you can do the basics, right?"

George nodded uncertainly, starting to take off his tie. He went on undressing. Deanna appeared to take no notice. Instead she focused on finishing her cigarette, eventually stubbing it out amongst the remains of half a dozen others in the ashtray beside her armchair. George was naked. Deanna made no effort to disguise her distaste at his flabby physique.

"All right," said Deanna, "let's see how you are at foot worship." She flopped down in the armchair, pushing out one of her feet towards George. "Get down and get your tongue to work on my toes," she said and without waiting to see what he did in response, picked up a copy of "Hello!" magazine and started reading.

As he got to his knees on the dusty carpet in front of her she kicked off one of the pale pink towelling mules that she wore on her feet and wiggled her toes, indicating where George should start. George reached out to lift her foot towards his mouth. "No hands," Deanna snapped. "Just use your tongue."

George put his hands behind his back and bent his head to the floor to allow himself to use his tongue on Deanna's toes. As he got close to her foot it was clear that she hadn't showered that morning and from the way that her nail varnish was cracked and chipped she hadn't paid much attention to her own feet for a while either. He licked at her toes and pushed his tongue between each as Erica had instructed him.

After about five minutes Deanna pulled her foot away. Instinctively, George looked up at her. Deanna simply shook her head, reached forward, and dealt George's face a stinging slap. George slipped back on his heels, his ears ringing. "Don't you dare stare at me!" Deanna barked. George dropped his head. "Now, make me some tea. You know where the kitchen is don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress," said George respectfully. He started to get to his feet.

"Wait!" she said. "Open your mouth." As he did so, she picked up her discarded mule and jammed it toe first, between his lips. "Don't want you snacking on anything in the kitchen, do we?" she sneered, looking down at his flabby belly. "It looks like you get enough to eat, if you ask me."

George shuffled off with the slipper wedged into his mouth. He soon returned with Deanna's tea. She was still sitting in the armchair but now she had turned on the television. He put the tea down on the table beside her chair and knelt silently.

"Give me that," she snapped, snatching her slipper from his mouth, thwacking it against his naked backside and putting it back onto her foot. "Use this instead." She took the TV remote control and used it to replace the slipper that had gagged George. He groaned as she pushed the plastic device into his mouth. Deanna just chuckled and turned her attention to the programme. George continued to kneel, ignored, while she watched. It wasn't what he'd dreamt of when he'd first fantasised about Erica. Even so, kneeling in this dingy room, naked, being treated with contempt by a girl young enough to be his daughter, he was aroused in a way that he would have found hard to imagine a few weeks before.

He was still there twenty minutes later when Darla came into the room. Compared with Deanna's slovenly appearance, Darla was clearly dressed to impress.

"How was the office?" Deanna asked.

"Oh, fine," Darla said, tossing her briefcase across the room and unfastening the buttons of her dark blue suit jacket to reveal the primrose yellow blouse beneath. "But I'll be pleased when I've got enough clients here so I can jack it in. I'd rather have those managers grovelling at my feet in here than me trying to keep them sweet at work."

Deanna laughed. "Well, you won't be able to give up the day job if Erica keeps inviting waifs and strays like this around." She aimed a kick at George's side. He grunted into his TV remote gag. "Bloody freebie!"

"Oh, he's not so bad is he? He doesn't look like he's being any trouble."

"He'd better not be."

"Anyway, I thought you had a paying client this afternoon. Isn't your motorist coming in?"

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" exclaimed Deanna leaping to her feet and nearly knocking George over. "What's the time? Bloody hell. He'll be here in five minutes and I haven't got my uniform on yet. Oh, Darla, can you look after this useless turd and let me get changed? He's due for an initial CBT and TENS session."

Darla smiled. "All right," she said, "but you owe me a favour."

"Erica does, you mean. He's her bloody freebie." Deanna scooted off.

Darla prised the TV remote control from George's mouth. He spluttered a bit as it came loose, then dropped his head not wishing to attract the girl's disapproval. "Well, I think you're quite well behaved for a beginner," said Darla, running her finger across his belly. "And I need the practice, even if Deanna doesn't. Now let's see how good your tongue is for polishing shoes. Off you go!" Darla placed one foot forward and George bent his head to kiss and lick the toe cap of her black, patent court shoe. She kept him busy, insisting that he move around at her feet to get his tongue at every part of the shoe. He was busy working on the back of the heel, not looking forward to when she would lift her foot so he could get at the sole, when he heard Deanna's voice again.

"Do I look all right?" she called.

Darla turned away and George looked up. Deanna was standing in the doorway dressed as a woman police constable. White shirt with dark epaulettes carrying the number "PC49", black tie, straight black skirt, dark stockings, heavy lace-up shoes, broad leather belt with handcuffs in a leather pouch; she certainly looked the part.

In spite of the fact that he felt that he and Deanna didn't get on too well, George liked what he saw. But then, he'd always had a thing about women in uniform. Darla, however, noticed that he wasn't paying attention to the task he had been assigned. "Hey, you!" she snapped. "Carry on with what you were doing," Darla ordered and George put his tongue back to work on her shoes.

Moments later, George heard the front door bell and then the sound of Deanna's voice. "Well, I'm glad you decided to come in to help our enquiries, sir," she said. She went on. Her own remarks punctuated by the protestations and eventually the yelps of a man's voice. "I hope you can explain about this alleged speeding offence ... If you'd like to come through, sir ... Ah, you shouldn't do that, sir. I can see that I will have to use the handcuffs ... Now, now, much more of that and I'll use my truncheon."