Swansong. GM Jordan
SWANSONG
GM Jordan
Swansong ™ & © 2014 GM Jordan & Markosia Enterprises, Ltd.
All Rights Reserved. Reproduction of any part of this work by any means without the written permission of the publisher is expressly forbidden. All names, characters and events in this publication are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Published by Markosia Enterprises, PO BOX 3477, Barnet, Hertfordshire, EN5 9HN. FIRST PRINTING, February 2015.
Harry Markos, Director.
ISBN 978-1-909276-45-1
Editor: Stephanie Holland-Hill
Book design by: Ian Sharman
First Edition
For esperer
SPECIAL THANKS
Thanks to my family, Karen Wenborn, Alan & Jan Harding, Molly, Susan, the Gough family, Sarah Reynolds, Sam Walker, Tim Pilcher, David Morris, David and Karen Lota, Harry Markos, Nichola Wilkinson, Paul H. Birch and all the people who have supported me and kicked me when I was on the verge of giving up.
Special thanks to the wonderful Stephanie Holland-Hill without whom this story would never have been edited and fit for reading.
To Paul, I never stopped chasing the dream;
it just kept out running me!
THE END
The light frost of the early morning gave the world a crisp, clean look to it. The hedges lining the road appeared to be made from icing, cobwebs keeping the tiny droplets of water like a million tiny flies.
Slowly a black car pulled into a driveway, the windows heavy with mist shielding the occupants from prying eyes. It pulled up to the house and stopped, a heeled foot stepped lightly onto the gravel and was closely followed by another. Black silk stockings ran under a long coat that was pulled up tightly around the owner’s face. She reached into the car and pulled out a small case.
Carefully she made her way to the door and knocked smartly, from the outside it appeared that the house was lifeless, it was if it mimicked her feelings deep inside. A few seconds later the latch was drawn back and the door opened, she stepped inside quickly and the door closed once again.
China didn’t pay much attention as she was led down the corridor and into a wood panelled study, she held the case tightly but her coat was removed. Underneath she wore a simple black dress that stopped just above her knees; as was her Master’s wishes she did not wear anything underneath except her stockings. Around her neck she wore a simple black leather collar that locked at the back, she had thought about removing it but felt lost without it.
Instinctively she stood with her legs apart, hands behind her back. Subconsciously she leaned back so her ample breasts could be seen. She breathed lightly, the events of the last few days were catching up with her and now she felt tired and alone. She wanted to curl up in a ball in her Master’s lap in safety. Tears fought their way into her eyes but she held them back.
“Master will be along shortly.” China looked up and noticed the girl attending to her for the first time. Her hair was cut short and she was pretty, any other time China might have thought her attractive. She wore little more than a rough smock and it was clear to China that the girl was a novice.
She nodded.
“Would you like to sit down, you must be cold and tired?” The girl tried to appear kindly but the cold China felt was not down to the weather.
“Thank you but I prefer to stand.”
The girl nodded and left. The door quietly clicked shut and left alone China would normally relax, instead she bowed her head and allowed a single tear to fall down her pale cheek. Closing her eyes she tried to remember how she had felt when she first arrived to start her training, it seemed a lifetime ago.
ONE
Gill knew deep down inside she was made differently. For as long as she could remember her life was busy and prosperous. She was respected and well liked but hidden away was another side that she wanted to explore but couldn’t, something lurked in her dreams waiting to be released.
She remembered one Christmas at university when she had been very drunk at a student party. She had blushed as her boyfriend told his friends how great she looked naked playfully slipping down her top as they danced. Everybody cheered as she stood in just a revealing bra in the middle of the room but she hid her excitement from them and pulled her blouse up quickly. Back in her room, lying on her bed she had slipped her hand between her legs and felt how hot she was; within minutes she had climaxed. Gill wasn’t sure if it was the thrill of being displayed in public or the applause, but whatever it was she felt alive and more aroused than she had been in her life.
The door clicked shut and brought her back to her senses, her eyes focused on the room and China waited for the new arrival to come into sight, she never moved her head.
A man in his forties walked slowly across the room and poked the fire, greying around the sides his hair was cut short and neat, his silk shirt was immaculate, the jacket he wore would not have looked out of place in the 1930’s and his dark trousers danced with the red glow of the fire. Finally he turned to look at her. In the half-light of the room his eyes appeared black, he looked long and hard at China for a moment, judging her soul. “Is it true?” he finally asked. He sat back in the leather seat and crossed his legs. She could do little more than nod, her legs felt like lead and she suddenly felt sick.
“This afternoon, a little after 4pm he slipped away.” Deep inside her stomach turned a knot of nerves that got tighter.
“Why have you come to me?” he asked, his fingers made a triangle, the tips touched his lips.
“My Master asked me to give you this.” Slowly China reached into the case and handed him a sealed envelope, wax held the edges tight. Slowly the master of the house cut the seal and ran his eyes over the text, it was quite long but he read quickly.
“You are the sole heir to his estate, until such time as it is settled you will remain in my charge.”
“Yes Sir,” China said slowly, she had expected to be left alone.
“You will call me Master now,” he told her, carefully placing the letter into the desk draw.
“I’m sorry, Sir. With respect I cannot do that.” She surprised herself with the statement, and was even more surprised when he smiled. He rang the small bell on the desk and within seconds the novice reappeared.
“Take China’s case to the room next to yours, she must be exhausted from carrying it.” The girl reached for the bag but China was loathe to let go. Finally she conceded and released her grip. She turned to leave.
“Before you go… Is it correct that you wear his mark?”
China slowly raised her dress hem and turned around, her buttocks were firm and red, and she heard his surprise.
“Yes Sir. It is true as you can see.” On each cheek sat the tattooed markings of her Master, gothic text held neatly in a neat oval of black.
“I have never seen his mark displayed so permanently.”
“He was my Master,” she breathed deeply trying to remain calm.
“You will make him proud,” the man stated, “or you will answer to me.”
“Yes Sir.”