Our weekends with Mike and Tara were always varied, but one thing stayed constant: Penny was my slave.
It sounds appalling when I say it now. I was sometimes quite appalled at the time.
It is not a word I would have chosen, but it was the word she used. 'Odalisque' or 'concubine' might have been more acceptable to me, having exotic fantasy connotations, not to be taken too seriously. But Penny liked the 'S' word. It gave away all her responsibility. Her actions were all to please me, and she had no choice but to choose to do them. If she displeased me she wanted to be punished. It freed her from guilt, shame and embarrassment. I could order, or merely suggest, anything and she would try to do it.
Of course that was often a very enjoyable situation to be in, but sometimes I had to be careful. Penny had become so used to being naked around Mike and Tara, and their other guests, and so used to performing all sorts of sexual acts in front of them, and with them, that she started to be more blatant in public. I picked her up one day after lectures and was driving her home, and when she asked me what we would do that afternoon I joked about wanting to see her naked as soon as possible. She just said "Of course, Master," and began to take off her clothing.
I was amused at first, and then, as she had slipped off her skirt and shoes, stockings, suspender belt, and her French knickers, I began to wonder how far she would go. So far it was all below the waist and out of sight from other cars. Her blouse went next, and she reached to undo her bra. We were driving along Cromac Street at the time, in the one way system that circles the city centre. She undid it and sat back, naked in the passenger seat, and smiled at me with open legs. "Is that alright, Master?" she asked.
We had to stop at traffic lights. There were cars on each side of us. Of course no-one really looks at the occupants of the cars around them. But I found myself blushing in some strange embarrassment. I ran my hand up her naked thigh and twirled a finger in the patch of curls at the base of her belly. "Very pretty Penny. Sadly though I think you should put your blouse back on so we don't get arrested." We were after all in front of the police station.
She shrugged, making her beautiful tits jiggle, and fished her blouse off the back seat where she had thrown it. As she did so I saw the man driving the car beside her staring into the passenger window with wide eyes. The lights changed. I left him behind.
On another occasion she called me 'Master' in front of some of our friends. I made a joke of it, and so did she, to cover it up, but it did raise an eyebrow or two. Especially since she had also started referring casually to sex in a way that she had never done before. She would drop double entendres and flirty suggestions into conversation, and touched me or moved more sensuously in public, and gave me looks that anyone could read.
Her dress had changed subtly. She had always been a little old fashioned and conservative in her taste, influenced by her mother and being a late and only child.
Now she still wore skirts most of the time, but they were a little shorter, sometimes a lot shorter. She wore stockings at all times too, never tights, and occasionally flashed the tops. Sometimes she wore no panties, but usually she had French knickers or thongs, but always in matched sets with the bra and suspender belt. Her blouses were looser and an extra button would be undone, and her St Christopher and little cross on the chain at her neck which used to be a permanent fixture had given way to more fashionable jewellery. Her ankle bracelet was a constant item. It had become a ritual for me to fasten it, and the one at her wrist, and her necklace. She called it "putting on her chains", and she wore them with pride, flaunting them and moving to draw other people's attention to them. She didn't make it obvious what meaning they held for her, but it was obvious that they meant something, and sometimes it was clear that it had a sexual significance.
More importantly she was also now a little more flirtatious with other people; girls as well as boys.
This had resulted in me getting a few winks and nudges from my friends. And an embarrassed chat with a bloke called Carl. He 'just wanted me to know' that my girlfriend was pretty clearly looking 'to play around'. She had flirted so openly and obviously with him that his girlfriend thought that they were having an affair. I thanked him for the warning.
Penny was amused. She thought Carl's girlfriend was a prig (not entirely without cause) and had done it to wind her up, but she accepted my suggestion that she needed to be more cautious.
Especially since we had plans to bring another couple into the scene at Mike and Tara's. Tim and Ronnie (Veronica to her mother) were in the drama society with us. Since we had been spending every weekend at Mike's we had fallen back from the DramSoc, but we were still involved a bit. We had done front of house, and helped with set building and lighting rigs for a production of "Equus" that Tim directed. That had finished its run, and at the closing party Ronnie had been fairly drunk and very flirty with me. Which Penny noticed, so she took her aside for a chat. It turned out that Ronnie did fancy me, and Tim did fancy Penny, and if we had had a place to go that evening it could all have been quite fun. Instead, after a coffee between the two girls on the Tuesday after, and some conspiracy hatching, they were coming to dinner at Mike and Tara's the following week.
Tim of course was oblivious to all the plotting. I was looking forward to him getting hit by the three girls with the full force of their persuasive powers. I was also looking forward to seeing Ronnie out of the skin tight jeans and ribbed sweaters she usually wore.
But that was next week. This weekend Mike had a movie night planned for Friday, as Tara was off to a conference about changes in the law about dangerous dogs. I was invited for the movies, along with half a dozen other guys. Mike said Penny could come if she wanted but... it was a beer and horror flick evening, and while the boys wouldn't mind... I said I understood.
Saturday evening was of course another matter altogether... but by Saturday evening all I wanted to do was sleep. We had watched films until six in the morning, got a few hours sleep and then I had to be up and about as my parents needed a hand with getting their caravan out of storage and cleaned up for the summer. Since I hoped to borrow the van a few times for trips with Penny (and Mike and Tara, perhaps) or just for wild parties, I had to help. Which meant some hours with a wire brush and anti rust treatment underneath it.
So when I got back to Mike's I was tired, filthy and sweaty, slightly hung over, hungry and grumpy.
Penny was there. Dressed in a shorter skirt than I had ever seen her wear before (it was one of Tara's) showing the pearl silk suspenders that held up her black stockings, and a blouse unbuttoned enough to display the matching bra, which was cut in an uplifting and plunging, lace and willpower fashion. My spirits rose.
She met me with a kiss, and looked kindly on me, despite the grime. She made me sit for a moment as she fetched a gin and tonic. Then she undid my shoes and helped me off with my socks as I groaned and sipped, and told her about my last twenty four hours. By the time I got halfway down the gin I felt more human. She suggested a shower (which was my number one plan in any case), and lead me (groaning and stiff backed) up the stairs. Of course she was going to help me with the washing, and she encouraged me to hurry by stripping off her blouse and stepping out of her skirt on the landing, pausing just a moment to show me her lingerie clad form before she opened the door to the bathroom.
I kissed her and let her strip me in the bathroom, and push me gently into the shower. She quickly slipped off her underwear as I adjusted the water and stood beneath the warm flow, muscles loosening and headache receding.
Penny's gentle hands lathered my hair, washed my face, smoothed over my back and front, thighs and calves and feet, and everywhere else. It was thorough and not too fast, a sensual treat, part massage and all so loving that I was overwhelmed by the care she care she took and the guilt I felt.
That afternoon, no doubt influenced by the nausea from too much beer the night before, as I lay sweating on my back beneath the rusting chassis of the van, hacking off lumps of dirt and barking my knuckles, I had thought ill of Penny. I had thought I might tell her it was over between us. That her clear desire for other men, and women, and her more and more blatant sexuality, made it obvious that she didn't love me, and that our relationship had changed too much. I was going to tell her that although I still found her attractive, and that I still liked her, and that I was very happy to fuck her, I no longer thought of her as my future wife. I would be her lover but I could not be her boyfriend, and certainly not her Master. She had to face up to the fact that she was a willing, enthusiastic participant in promiscuous and pretty extreme sex, and that she was responsible for what she did and let others do to her.
In my head I rejected words like 'slut'. I hated the negative connotations. I saw nothing wrong with liking sex, and my wanting to sleep with many girls, and why should she not do the same? But I couldn't pretend that she was my girlfriend any more. She was not the only one for me, and I was not the only one for her, and while we could enjoy screwing and swinging, it was never going to be anything more.
