Royal Flush Ch. 01

Not interested," Andrea snapped. "Now, have you got the photo frames?"

Tamsin held out the shopping bag from Rymans. Andrea took it from her and rummaged through.

"God, couldn't you have got anything better than this," Andrea said, dismissively. "We're supposed to be a couple of classy broads, not two chavs from Essex."

"They're the best I could get," Tamsin protested.

"Well, seeing as how they're all we have they will have to do. Now, what else have you got?"

They went through to the bedroom where Andrea had already laid out some make up on the dressing table. Tamsin put her suitcase on the bed and opened it up. Andrea, pushed her aside and started rummaging through all the while making disparaging remarks.

"For fuck's sake, Tamsin," Andrea complained, "What the fuck is all this. I'm pretty sure that Emma Pearson's companion wouldn't be allowed to wear plain cotton panties from Primark, nor would she buy her make up at Superdrug."

"But they're all I've got," Tamsin retorted. "You know I never use makeup so that's all I had lying around."

"It's not about what you've got, it's about what Emma Pearson's companion would have and she certainly wouldn't have this. Put it away. I guess we'll have to go out shopping for you. Well, not for panties, my sex slave isn't allowed to wear them. Same goes for bras."

Privately Tamsin had to admit that there was a ghastly logic to all this. Andrea was, once again, right and, to appear convincing when 'in role' this was what would have to happen. However, that didn't mean, for one moment, that she actually liked any of it.

And then, with the flat readied for inspection, it was time to make the first phone call. Andrea went through to the lounge, putting her phone in speaker mode, and dialled the number Angus had given her.

"Good morning. Cootbourne House. How may I help you?" they heard when the phone was answered

"Ah, good morning, my name is Emma Pearson. I believe Lady Mary is expecting my call," Andrea said.

"One moment, please, I'll just check whether she is available at the moment."

"Emma, my dear," Lady Mary's voice over the phone was so strident that they hardly needed to have the speaker switched on. "I'm so glad you've got in touch. Lucy has been telling me the most tantalising snippets about you and I'm longing to see whether they're true. I gather you've just arrived from South Africa."

"That's right. Things simply aren't the same any more. We struggled on as long as we could but we've had enough and it seemed like the right time to return."

"I do understand how you feel," Lady Mary replied, "after all, once the darkies took over... oh, how dreadful of me. We're not supposed to say things like that but I'm sure you know what I mean."

"I do indeed," Andrea replied. Tamsin, listening in, was shocked to the core. She had been expecting a certain amount of racism and, in politer terms, that was indeed their supposed back story, but to hear such views expressed so openly was an eye opener. She wondered if the rest of the members of this club were going to be equally racist.

"I think it best if, in the first instance, we should have a little get together, just the two of us," Lady Mary continued. "There are some things you can't talk about over the phone and I'm dying to actually meet you. I'm in town tomorrow. I have to visit my dressmaker in Bond Street. I should be free about mid morning. How does that suit?"

"I have no commitments for tomorrow," Andrea replied. "None that can't be changed, anyway. If you're in Bond Street you're not too far from where I'm staying. Can I invite you for a spot of elevenses."

"Elevenses, that sounds splendid," Lady Mary gushed. Andrea gave her directions to the flat and Lady Mary agreed that she would come round to visit as soon as her dressmaker appointment was over.

"God, what an awful woman," Tamsin said as soon as Andrea had put the phone down.

"Awful or not, she's the one we have to convince. If we're going to serve her elevenses we had best check out what we've got in the cupboards. We're going to need some posh tea, we can't serve her PG Tips. We've got to go shopping to get our outfits and some bits and pieces to scatter around as if we lived here so, if it turns out we need anything, we can stock up at Fortnum's whilst we're out. I assume this place comes with suitable crockery. She doesn't sound like the sort to accept tea from a tea bag and if we haven't got a tea pot we'll look stupid."

Andrea and Tamsin went to the kitchen and checked through the cupboards. Whilst there wasn't the finest selection of china available what was there was good enough given that they were expected to be in rented accommodation while they found a suitable permanent home. By the time they had finished their inventory they had drawn up quite a shopping list and they headed out, in the first instance, for Piccadilly and Fortnum and Mason's. Andrea headed for the selection of teas and grabbed a liberal selection.

"I'm glad I'm not paying for this," Tamsin commented as they took their full basket to the checkout.

"Yeah, make sure we keep every receipt," Andrea replied. "And, if you think this is expensive, wait until we hit the clothes shop. Still, if Angus is correct, this one is worth every penny."

Then they took the bus down to Harrods to buy some bits and pieces they still needed to scatter around the flat to make it look like they lived there. Tamsin hated every moment. She wasn't one for expensive clothes or make up but Andrea insisted that they had to have something credible lying about on the dressing table. When they got to the checkout their company credit card took another hard hit and the pile of receipts was beginning to build.

And then it was on to the specialist clothes shop which, as Andrea had predicted, was also far from cheap. Tamsin was amazed at the prices being demanded, especially, as she pointed out to Andrea, when you took into account the fact that some of the outfits consisted of little more than a few leather straps. As ever, Andrea's more forceful personality took over and it wasn't long before she had selected outfits for both of them. For herself she selected a full length leather basque which came to just above her nipples, knee length boots with heels that were high, but not unreasonable, sheer black stockings and a leather thong arrangement. A leather skirt, which buckled at the waist, could be worn over the top of it all to give an almost 'normal', albeit rather racy, appearance.

There was no such normality for either of the outfits that Andrea selected for Tamsin. The first could hardly be called an outfit at all because it consisted of little more than wide leather wrist and ankle cuffs, and a pair of high heeled ankle boots which could be locked with a little padlock. When Tamsin protested that no one in their right mind would wear boots like that, Andrea just pointed to the many posters and display items and noted that they were the norm, rather than the exception and that the five inch heels were far from the most extreme available.

Tamsin wasn't sure whether the second outfit that Andrea had picked out for her was better or worse. Whilst there was less bare flesh on display and, to an extent, her breasts and groin were covered, the classic, not to say clichéd, black satin French maid's outfit played straight into stereotypes that an ardent feminist such as Tamsin loathed. She hadn't got much in the way of cleavage but the bodice was boned and laced like a corset so it constricted her torso and acted like a push up bra, offering her breasts up, so that what little she did have seemed to be on display. The neckline had been cut in such a way that the lace trimming just hid her nipples but her areolae were clearly visible. Below the waist the micro skirt was fully flared and designed so that the slightest movement would offer tantalising glimpses of what lay beneath. For a few brief moments Tamsin hoped that Andrea would agree to the optional frilly panties but Andrea insisted that they didn't fit the image they were trying to portray. With the selection made, they called over an assistant who took Tamsin off to the changing rooms to try the outfit on. When she emerged she looked at herself in the full length mirror and it was everything she had feared. She felt objectified, depersonalised, a gift‑wrapped object whose sexual availability was openly advertised. The fact that the assistant was gushing about how pretty she looked didn't help at all.

"That's perfect," Andrea commented when she came over. "Now come along, we've got plenty more to buy and time's getting on."

Tamsin and the assistant returned to the changing rooms so that Tamsin could get back into her jeans and tee shirt. When they returned to the shop floor Andrea was busy choosing a collar. The range available seemed limitless. On the one hand there were those that were little more than dog collars which, apart from the price tag, were identical to those you could find in any local pet shop. At the other end there were fantastic constructions in both leather and steel. Tamsin wasn't in the least bit surprised when Andrea went towards the more extreme end of the range but she ended up pleasantly surprised when Andrea picked out a simple loop of chromed steel which was actually quite stylish in a perverse way.

The assistant asked if they wanted the attached name tag to be engraved and, if so, what with.

"I think 'Miss Emma's slut' would be suitable?" Andrea turned to Tamsin. "What do you think?"

"Please, Andrea, I don't want to do this...."

"Come along, don't be shy. Tell the nice lady what should be on your name tag. Tell her what you are."

Tamsin just stood there, teeth gritted.

"Is this your slut's first time out in public?" the assistant asked Andrea. "She seems a little unsure of herself. We have private rooms available if you would like to discipline her."

Horrified at how quickly this was getting out of hand Tamsin stared at Andrea but got nothing back. It would seem that the only way out of this would be to play along.

"Please put 'Miss Emma's slut' on the name tag," she said to the assistant.

The assistant looked at Andrea who just nodded.

"There, that wasn't too hard, was it," the assistant said as if to a small child before leaving to get this organised.

"Why did you have to do that?" Tamsin hissed.

"Because that's the way it goes," Andrea replied firmly. "What? Don't look at me like that. I didn't make the rules. I spent most of last night chatting with an old flame who's into all this stuff and, from what she tells me, slaves don't have names, well, apart from pet names depending on the Mistress's mood. Apparently slaves are supposed to be entirely driven by their uncontrollable sexual urges and are expected to respond to 'slut' or something like that. From what I gather it's all about depersonalising you, taking away your identity, subjugating your will to mine. Look, I'm just saying what I've been told and, if we're to appear convincing, we have to play this to the hilt."

"But why here? Why now? Why did you have to do it in front of the assistant?"

"Just mucking about," Andrea replied. "Look, we're going to have to go through a lot more than this if we're to persuade Lady Mary and her club that we're into all this kinky stuff so you had better get used to it. Think of this as part of the preparatory work."

"That wasn't just mucking about...," Tamsin started but was cut short when the assistant called Andrea over to clear up some details about which font to use on the name tag and Tamsin had to revert to playing along.

With this done it was time to pay and they all went over to the tills. The assistant took out from behind the counter a bag of items that Andrea had selected whilst Tamsin had been in the changing rooms. Tamsin watched, slack jawed, as they were run through the bar-code reader. Cuffs, chains, hobbles, gags, paddles, canes and crops; Andrea seemed to have selected everything she could get her hands on. When the bill finally arrived it was well into four figures and Tamsin was glad that it wasn't coming out of her pocket.

Half an hour later and Andrea was busy letting them into the Mayfair flat. Tamsin wasn't quite sure how it had happened but, once again, she had ended up carrying all the bags.

"Phew! West End shopping really wipes me out. Put the kettle on, will you?" Andrea demanded as she fell back on the sofa and kicked off her shoes.

"Why should I?" Tamsin protested.

"Oh, be a darling, will you?" Andrea replied. "My feet are killing me." And, before she knew what she was doing Tamsin was in the kitchen boiling the kettle and putting away the groceries.

"Thanks," Andrea said as Tamsin put the tea tray down in front of her. "Now, the next thing on the agenda is checking out all this new gear. I mean, you said it yourself; you're not used to walking in five inch heels so the more practice you get before tomorrow morning the better. When Lady Mary arrives we've got to look the part; we've got to look as if we've been doing this since forever, not like a couple of klutzes who just bought all the gear and haven't got a clue."

"Can't I at least drink my tea first?" Tamsin complained.

"Yeah, but don't take all day. The sooner we start the better."

As soon as the tea was finished Andrea stood up and, with a curt 'come along then', led Tamsin into the bedroom. They laid out their purchases on the bed and looked them over.

"OK, tomorrow, I should be in normal clothing. I can't see me being the type to be in fetish gear all the time. You, on the other hand, should wear the maid's outfit. I'm sure Emma Pearson is the type who would have her maid in full uniform whenever she entertains. When she arrives I'll answer the door and bring her through to the lounge. Then, while I chat, you appear from the kitchen and serve the tea. Fair enough? Let's try a dress rehearsal. Get your kit off and I'll help you get dressed."

"What, now?"

"Well, duh, yes, now. Oh, for fuck's sake, don't get all prissy on me. If we blow it tomorrow we blow everything. Don't you see that? We can't mess this one up, we really can't. Do you want to be the one to go back to Angus and tell him we blew our cover at the first meeting. Well I certainly don't. The hard work starts now. We practice and we practice until we're perfect and then we practice some more. In short we practice until we can convince Lady Mary that having you serve the tea wearing fetish gear is part and parcel of our everyday life. Get it?"

"OK, OK, you've made your point," Tamsin replied. Whatever her reluctance she had to admit that Andrea was right about the need to practice so, with a sigh, she started to take off her clothes. While she did so Andrea turned to the pile on the bed and sorted through the bits and pieces. There were three small engravings hanging on the wall and she took these down and replaced them with the riding crop, a tawse and a paddle, standing back to admire the effect. Meanwhile, Tamsin had stripped naked and was reaching for the maid's outfit which, with Andrea's help, she started to put on. As the lacing was at the back she needed Andrea's help to tighten the bodice and it seemed to Tamsin that Andrea was pulling the laces far tighter than was strictly necessary. After that she put on the shoes. Apart from a quick try out in the shop Tamsin had never worn heels this high and, when she tried to stand up in them, she was very unsteady on her feet.

"Do you see what I mean," Andrea commented. "By the looks of things, if we practice all night you'll only just be ready for tomorrow. Now, let's accessorise."

Tamsin soon found out what Andrea meant by 'accessorise'. Both her ankles and her wrists were fitted with cuffs and then joined by short lengths of chain. The maid's outfit, naturally, came with a little mop cap and that went on as well. When Andrea reached for the ball gag Tamsin started to complain but Andrea's insistence that they had to do a full rehearsal overrode her objections. "That way you won't be expected to speak, tomorrow," Andrea explained. With that done the finishing touch was the collar.

"Ooh, you look quite the part," Andrea said with a laugh as she clicked the last padlock into place. "Now, try walking up and down."

Still tottering on her heels, and using the footboard to steady herself, she set off along the bottom of the bed. In a way the chain between her ankle cuffs helped. She was forced to take small mincing steps rather than stride out. That, along with the way the heels distorted her gait, meant that she was forced to swing her hips. Andrea picked up a crop from off the hook on the wall and used the end of it to give Tamsin 'helpful' guidance. As Tamsin got to the end of the bed she caught sight of herself in the mirror and gave a little gasp. It had been bad enough in the shop but now she had the addition of the shoes, gag and cuffs. Trussed up like a turkey, gagged, collared and wearing those ridiculous ankle boots, she looked like something out of the worst sort of porn mag, a sexual object. The stupid, mincing gait she was forced to use as she walked made her skirt swing and, as it did so, it gave brief glimpses of what was, and was not, below. Andrea had her walking back and forth, back and forth until Tamsin's calves and ankles were aching but she had, at least, managed to achieve some sort of balance and was able to walk without support.

"That's it, you're getting the hang of it now," Andrea said grudgingly. "Now, let's see you serve the tea."

Tamsin tried to suggest that they take a break first but Andrea was having none of that and, using the crop, she guided Tamsin through to the lounge.

"Now then, you stand over there," Andrea pointed to a corner of the room, "I welcome Lady Mary and invite her to sit there," Andrea pointed to the sofa and, meanwhile, sat down in the opposite armchair. "Then I'll say 'Can I offer you some refreshments, Lady Mary? Tea, perhaps?' and, when she answers, I'll click my fingers like this," Andrea raised her right hand to about shoulder level and demonstrated. "OK, shall we try it?"

Tamsin really didn't have any choice in the matter. Time and time again Andrea ran her through the 'script', as it were, and, each time, she seemed to find fault. She demanded that Tamsin's poise should be perfect, that she should keep her eyes downcast, that she should give a curtsey before heading for the kitchen, that she should hold herself better, that she should...

Tamsin found that she was getting more and more upset. She knew how important this was, she knew how much their careers depended on getting this right but Andrea was bossing her around with no let up. Her ankles and calves were giving her real gip, the shoes pinched her toes, and she was dying for a break but, gagged as she was, there was no way she could say this. What was more, Andrea was a little heavy handed with the crop as she used it to guide her around. She would do better if only Andrea would leave her alone. As for actually making the tea, they didn't have enough real tea to waste but Andrea insisted that Tamsin should boil the kettle, fill the teapot, load up the tray and carry it through. Andrea would then, using her hands, 'ask' Lady Mary whether she wanted milk and sugar and Tamsin would have to pour out the hot water as if it were the real thing. Tamsin had nearly completed a successful run when the feel of Andrea's hand sliding up her inner thigh made her jump and she spilt everything.

"What?" Andrea said in reply to the exasperated look that Tamsin gave her, "that's exactly the sort of thing they would expect me to do. We've got to make this look real. Now, let's try it again."

In the end it didn't take all night but, it was well into the evening by the time Andrea was satisfied and Tamsin's nerves were in shreds and her feet were agony. Even then, Andrea wanted to run through it all one more time but Tamsin finally mutinied. She sat down on the sofa and flatly refused to move. When Andrea finally relented and removed the gag Tamsin pointed out that, if the blisters on her feet got any worse, then she wouldn't be able to walk at all and, therefore, any further practice would just make things worse, not better. Reluctantly Andrea agreed. They went back to the bedroom and Tamsin got out of costume. What with the padlocks on her shoes, ankle cuffs, wrist cuffs, gag, and collar it took quite a while to take off all the cuffs and collars. Tamsin suggested firmly that, as each padlock came with two keys, the spares should be stored safely in the middle draw of the dressing table.