Chapter 7 : Clippings & Concerns

George took the opportunity of being on the far side of town to go into a newsagent's shop in order to get the magazines and scrap book. The girl at the cash desk gave him a very odd look when he turned up with his small pile of purchases. He ignored her quizzical look, hiding his embarrassment by trying to appear as though it was the most natural thing in the world for someone like him to be buying such titles as Cosmopolitan, Hello!, OK!, Vogue and Marie Clair. He scuttled off home with them.

George parked his car outside his house. Although none of the magazines he had bought could be considered in the least bit risqué, George still felt furtive as he picked up the bag they were in and got out of the car.

"Hello George," a woman's voice behind him called. Startled he almost dropped the bag and span around to see Allison Callow. "I thought it was you."

"Ah. Yes. Ah. Hello, Allison," George stuttered. "Just — err — popped out for some — well, needed to pick these up." He smiled and almost dropped the bag. Allison looked puzzled by his flustered manner.

"Oh, well, yes. I wondered if that last lot of tax information was all right? Or if you needed to talk it through?"

George reassured her that everything was fine and that there wasn't anything they needed to discuss. Clutching the bag of magazines to him, terrified unless they should fall, he bustled inside leaving Allison calling after him, "Well, if you do need to chat you can always give me a call. You've got my number." George nodded and waved and hurried indoors.

Back in his study he piled the magazines on his desk. He was surprised by how easy he found his task; by how many of the images in the magazines seemed capable of being interpreted from a fetishistic perspective. George soon got into the swing of things and quickly collected a pile of pictures neatly snipped from their pages. He wasn't sure how many "Mistresses" Erica wanted him to include or how many pictures he should have of each. In the end he decided that, since the scrap book had ten double-page spreads he would use each of them for a different celebrity, collecting a set of pictures of each from the various magazine.

As he pasted the pictures into the book he realised that he was revealing a great deal about his interests in the dominant women. Many of the pictures showed women with long shapely legs, often revealed by slashed skirts. High heeled shoes and boots also figured regularly as did pictures of women with an arrogant, unsmiling or sneering expression.

He started to add the captions that Mistress Erica had asked for. The first spread was a collection of pictures that showed his chosen celebrity as she was leaving a night club, her legs delightfully on display as she clambered into her limousine and then as she leant forward to pull the door of the car shut, waving the photographers away disdainfully. He wrote underneath, forming the letters in the careful script that he usually used for form filling or writing up reports. "Mistress Victoria: On her return from her night's exertions on the dance floor, I would bath and massage her feet so that she might sleep, relaxed and comfortable." He went on. Elizabeth: nothing would give him more pleasure than to wait on her in her new London apartment, depicted in such sumptuous detail in the pictures. Halle: how could he wish for more than to wait with towels to dry her as she emerged from her pool. Nicole: what could be a greater pleasure than to feel himself beneath her naked feet.

He worked his way through the book, unconscious of the passing of time, only aware of the dryness in his mouth, the sensation of desire and the stiffening of his cock between his thighs. Angelina, Lindsay, Beyoncée and Scarlett took their places in the album with George fantasising about how he would serve them. The more he did, the more astonished he was that he had never thought about fantasising in such a way before. Until he had fallen under Erica's spell his desires had never found a focus, he had been aware of women, of course, but somehow he'd never thought of himself as having much to do with them or them with him. Now, under Erica's influence it seemed the most natural thing in the world to be imagining himself the helpless, doting slave of some movie star or model, waiting on their every whim, submitting to any punishment they might desire, possibly being allowed to serve them in the most intimate ways.