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Molly wanted more, but would Jack realise in time?
And then for her mistress to beat her for giving in to her needs. It was horrible being controlled and all because her father had got into debt. It wasn't fair. Especially if it had been the other way round, Amna would have treated Rebecca kindly.
Amna curtseyed. "Yes, miss," she said. Like a lot of girls in their school, Amna had a secret crush on Steven Jago. But that had been when she was free. Now she was just a slave-girl. And a locked slave-girl at that. Jago was tall, dark and handsome. He was talked up as a potential pro football player. He was also a great horseman.
When Rebecca was ready, the two girls caught the train to the next suburban station down the line, Turo Horlogo or Clock Tower. Stephen Jago was swinging on a hammock on his verandah. He swung down and stood when he saw the two girls walk up his parent's driveway. He was wearing a crisp white shirt and linen trousers.
"Rebecca daCastro, lovely to see you. Make yourself at home," he said with a big smile on his face. He paused and a look of confusion crossed his face. He looked at Rebecca's slave-girl following behind her mistress at a respectful distance.
"Is that you, Amanda?" he asked. "What happened?"
"It's Amna, now," Rebecca told him. "My father bought her for me as my eighteenth birthday present."
"I'm sorry, I didn't know," he said. "The last time I saw you, Amanda... I mean Amna... you were at school."
"Well, she's not at school now. She's just a slave-girl. Amna's only desire is to serve me now, isn't it?" Rebecca said, turning to her slave-girl.
"Yes, miss," said Amna, submissively.
They made their way out of the tropical sun into the cool shade of Steven Jago's veranda. He offered Rebecca a seat. She sank into its cushioned comfort with a sigh. It was good to be out of the heat. Steven Jago offered a glass of lemonade to Rebecca but nothing to the equally thirsty slave-girl.
"Footstool," Rebecca ordered, pointing to the wooden floor before her.
"Please no, miss," whimpered poor Amna.
"Footstool," Rebecca said again, less gently than before.
With a little moan, Amna stripped off her tunic-dress, her breast-band and then crouched before her mistress. She was so aware of Steven Jago watching her naked body as she knelt and crouched. She covered her boobs and was glad she was hidden away as she crouched. Until he casually strolled around behind her. And then her bottom and shaved genitals were fully exposed to his view.
"You've locked Amanda... Amna," he said, a note of approval in his tone.
"I had to," said Rebecca. Rebecca swung her feet up onto Amna's back. Always before, she'd taken off her shoes when using Amna as a footstool. But this time, Rebecca's heels dug into Amna's flesh. Amna squirmed and tried to find a more comfortable posture.
"Be still, girl," Rebecca ordered. She patted Amna on the head with her new paddle. Amna stopped moving but the pain soon became almost too much to bear. Her eyes watered with hurt and humiliation.
Steven Jago drew up a chair and sat next to Rebecca.
"Yes, I had her locked.