Their Master's Pleasure by B. A. Bradbury Page B

their privacy, but couldn’t help catching a sentence or two. It wasn’t the flirtatious nonsense I was half expecting, but an apparently serious discussion on the merits of caring for the poor. If Freddie was attempting to curry Elizabeth’s favour as a necessary prelude to parting those wonderful thighs of hers, I wished him well, for my eldest ward could spot shallowness and artifice at a mile. If he meant what he said, then the pair of them - despite their many differences - had more in common than I would have thought possible. I smiled to myself at the entanglements of youth and slipped quietly away.
    Elizabeth’s opinion of my godson was no clearer to me following this latest request, for she would wish to keep Cathy from his clutches whether she liked him or loathed him.
    â€˜So explain to me,’ I said, ‘why do you need my help, exactly? You could speak to Freddie yourself. You could even offer to sleep with him in Cathy’s place, couldn’t you? It wouldn’t be the first time you’d sacrificed yourself on her behalf.’
    I was referring to her arrangement with me, whereby I had agreed to desist from molesting my youngest ward in exchange for Elizabeth’s participation in a humiliation of her own devising - the truly memorable Rectal Recital. I was taking something of a risk making such a suggestion, for if she talked to Freddie before I had a chance to explain things she would soon learn the truth of it.
    It soon became clear I had little to fear, for Elizabeth had no intention of talking to Freddie about this. ‘I couldn’t,’ she said, colouring more deeply than ever. ‘It’s out of the question.’
    â€˜So why not talk to Cathy instead?’
    â€˜I’ve already tried. She won’t listen to advice; she thinks she knows it all.’
    Elizabeth certainly had a problem and it seemed I was her only hope. Everything was falling into place beautifully, in fact. All I had to do now was deliver the coup de grace . ‘Very well,’ I said, ‘I’ll speak with Freddie. I’m sure I can get him to toe the line.’
    â€˜Thank you, uncle.’ There was a note of circumspection in her voice, as if she knew what was coming next. As I said, my eldest ward was a most astute young woman.
    â€˜Naturally,’ I added, ‘there will be a price.’
    She nodded slowly and her mouth turned down. ‘Naturally.’
    Perhaps she was expecting a repeat performance of Rectal Recital, and I was certainly tempted - the thought of Elizabeth, naked and quivering, playing the piano whilst perched on my lap with my cock up her bum was delightful indeed - but why make do with a repeat when I could have something altogether new?
    â€˜These are my terms,’ I said. ‘I want you to devise three games, from which I shall pick the best. They must be sexual in nature, obviously, and must possess a spanking element. Is this acceptable to you?’
    Though she sighed and afforded me a most unhappy look, her answer was entirely predictable.
    â€˜Excellent,’ I said. ‘Do you need to borrow The Book of Earthly Pleasures again to spark some ideas, or The Diary of a Slave - Ursula’s Story ?’
    â€˜Hardly,’ she said with a shudder. ‘The words and images are burned indelibly into my memory, to my eternal shame.’
    â€˜In that case I shall return to my painting in the hope that your endeavours will be equally creative. Good luck!’
    Â 
    Early that evening she came to see me in the study.
    â€˜Elizabeth, my dear,’ I said, ‘you never cease to amaze me. Two hours to invent three new games must surely be a record. I take it you do have the games?’
    â€˜Indeed,’ she said. ‘I even remembered to give them names.’
    I settled back in my chair and prepared to be both amazed and delighted, for though Elizabeth was an innocent at heart, she possessed a remarkable talent