The Master Plan

The Master Plan -pt 6

X and Natalya sat themselves at the dining table. A nonchalant expression as he nodded Rose towards the kitchen. Was he fucking serious?! Jesus Christ! She hovered for a moment. Then a stroppy huff as she set off across the room. Totally humiliating to walk past the fully-clothed diners with her naked buttocks on display. Alone in the kitchen, she leant on the counter and stared into space. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. What should she do?

He was acting as if Natalya’s presence shouldn’t stop them proceeding with the game. He’d even brought up Rose’s fantasy about playing the naked waitress for him and his colleagues. But this was hardly the scenario that Rose had envisaged. She’d imagined parading for a group of shadowy men as her Master proudly showed off his perfect submissive. But this didn’t feel like that. X and Natalya were sitting down to a candlelit dinner for two. They looked like a fucking couple – an offensively-attractive ‘power couple’. Rose listened to them talking and laughing. For fuck’s sake!

This wasn’t fair. Obviously she should resist. Just shout her safe-word and refuse to serve the food? Storm off? Or just go and sit at the table with them? What was the dignified response? Hard to be dignified when one’s ass is sticking out of the back of one’s apron. Maybe she should just go along with it? Could she enjoy it? It would be like she was submitting to both of them. Rose had never fulfilled her fantasies of playing sub to a woman… and Natalya was infuriatingly attractive. Maybe it could be hot? Although the Russian was about ten years younger than Rose. And the sound of them laughing together was genuinely infuriating. Could hear the clink of glasses as they toasted the day’s success. Rose gripped the bramble of irritation and held it until a little prickle of titillation wriggled through her loins. Fuck it! Just do it. Natalya’s cab would be coming in an hour and fifteen minutes anyway.

Rose took a deep breath and got on with it. The diners were deep in animated conversation and ignored their server as she set Natalya’s place-mat. Rose tried not to let the cringe show in her posture as she paraded her bare ass. Bringing out the artisan bread and homemade humus. Natalya demanded a jug of water… and then had the cheek to send Rose back to fetch sparkling water instead. All the orders they gave were blunt, off-hand and delivered without breaking eye-contact across the table. And no ‘thank-you’. They treated her the way rude, rich people treat waitresses. Unbelievably humiliating! Although (annoyingly) there was a part of her that sort of enjoyed it – a little grimace of excitement tingling below her ears. But she wasn’t going to play the perfect submissive. Wasn’t going to say ‘Yes, Master’… and certainly not ‘Yes, Mistress’. She maintained her sulky expression, irritation itching, jabbing and taunting.

They kept her running around constantly for the next forty-five minutes, whilst they sat there: laughing, quaffing and scoffing. Lasagne was served, alongside a feta and walnut salad. They ordered butter for the bread, more ice cubes for the water, another bottle of wine. There were no compliments about the food, but they certainly seemed to enjoy it. The diners became increasingly raucous as the meal progressed. The atmosphere was excitable, triumphant… and loaded.

They kept making celebratory toasts… some quite cryptic. Toasting to: newfound riches, Natalya getting the business investment funds she needed, the ‘Masterplan,’ ‘Troy 2022,’ ‘The success of our friends across the world.’ They seemed to be severely over-estimating the value of the loot. Rose heard the figure ‘fifty million dollars’ being bandied about. What could that refer to? She also overheard references to parts of the plan she wasn’t privy to. Could have sworn X said something about dropping something off ‘next door’ later (although the next house was a long way off).

X and Natalya clearly knew each other much better than he’d implied. Their conversations were peppered with in-jokes and references to shared memories. The banter was familiar and loaded with intimate subtext. The settled rhythm of discussions that’d been going back-and-forth for years. And worst of all, it was flirtatious – unmistakably so. Rose only heard generalised references to sex, but it was becoming obvious that X and Natalya were lovers. There was a lot going on the reluctant waitress didn’t know about. A sense of foreboding growing inside, like a shadow rising… impending doom.

As the drink flowed, the diners grew fiercer. Both moving with assertive thrusting gestures, banging the table to emphasise points. Violence creeping into their conversations… their voices… their movements. Harsh tones and cruel words. There was something carnivorous about them – something predatory – and the tension was beginning to bite. Rose’s simmering anger was making way for fear. She’d originally thought it was X and her, with Natalya on the outside. But obviously: it was X and Natalya, with Rose on the outside. This couldn’t end well, but the waitress kept on serving. As she set down the apricot tart and jug of cream, X burst out.

‘Oh yes, champagne! Why haven’t we opened the champagne already?’ Suddenly turning and barking, ‘Champagne! Go get the champagne!’ As the waitress spun on her heels, he grabbed a wooden spatula from the table and swept a strong backhand across her buttocks. ‘Move that fucking ass!’

A little squeal of surprise as Rose scurried off. Her blood running cold – shocking, icy, refreshing… chilling. A confusing tumult of emotions. They sat in ominous silence as the waitress returned with the champagne. Shaking hands opening the bottle, muzzling the cork in her palm and pouring two glasses. They still didn’t say anything, but Rose could feel the smiles in their eyes glinting back-and-forth. Natalya spoke as the waitress turned to walk away.

‘Sexy, big, red mark on sexy, big, white ass. I like it. Come here, I want see.’ She ushered Rose back expectantly. The waitress hesitated, looking towards X with horrified, pleading eyes. He nodded to where Rose should be standing. She stepped back to the table. ‘Turn around and show me.’ Natalya’s verbal order reinforced with a flicking hand gesture from X. The submissive turned. ‘Bend.’ The Russian put her hand on Rose’s lower back to guide the movement. Humiliation panging and stinging as Natalya leaned in to inspect the red mark. ‘I like it.’ She squeezed a rough pinch on the buttock, nails digging in… before she dismissed the waitress with a contemptuous, slapping pat. Rose shuffled off. ‘And a nice, fleshy wobble.’ Natalya turned to X with an approving expression. ‘You do pick them well. We’ll have lots of fun with this one.’

Rose couldn’t ignore that. Swinging around and flicking her focus from one predator to another. ‘What does she mean?’

His eyes were severe, but his face was placid. A shrugging gesture beckoning Rose to him, then gathering her in with his arm and pulling her onto his lap. Both arms moving to enclose her, looping the waist and pushing down on her thighs. His expression hardening, jaw jutting and chest rising. She knew that body language.

Natalya’s voice was cold and cruel. ‘Why we still pretend to be nice to her? She done the robbery, downloaded the software… brought us dinner. We don’t need her now. Why pretend? Now comes the fun bit.’ Horror snaked through Rose’s body. ‘Hey, Patsy! Patsy-bitch. Look at me. I explain for you, nice and clear. You are the Patsy. You do work. You do robbery. We take treasure. You take blame.’ Smug, self-satisfied expression as she continued…

‘You’ve been our Patsy from beginning. There was never a “robbery team”. You are the robbery team! You are all the teams. You give the inside information. You open the safe. You rob the safe. But the CCTV system still recording, so they film you robbing it. Tomorrow morning, they definitely know it was you. Then they come find you. And they find plenty more evidence that it was you. But we get the… money. And they don’t know it’s us, because there no evidence for this. You know it’s us, but they don’t believe you. We’ve been careful… and clever. So we get away with it. And be rich! And you… go to prison.’ Rose was numb. She knew it was true, but turned to X for confirmation. His expression was dark, eyes steeled. The Russian was relentless. ‘You still don’t understand? I thought I explained it very…’ searching for the right word.

‘Concisely.’ He cut in. A cruel smirk lurked below the surface – he was sharing it with Natalya… He was sharing everything with Natalya!

The Russian raised her champagne flute. ‘To Patsy… who make us rich.’

MIRROR SECRET MIRROR is dark, decadent, BDSM erotica. It's a corrupting force, an evil seduction, a delicious poison… a trap! 

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