Chapter 1
Stephanie
My story outlines MY DESCENT INTO SLAVERY: A MOST WILLING, TOTAL AND COMPLETE PROCESS
WHICH BEGAN ON THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY OF OUR WEDDING AND CONTINUED UNTIL THE BIRTH OF MY
FIRST CHILD. IT WAS A PROCESS WHICH I INSTITUTED MYSELF AND WHICH I HAVE LARGELY
STAGE-MANAGED THROUGHOUT, ALTHOUGH, WHEN I COME TO THINK ABOUT IT, NO, I BELIEVE THERE WAS
SOMETHING OR SOMEONE ELSE WHO WAS REALLY PULLING THE STRINGS.
As I say, it began on the first anniversary of our wedding. Gerald and I had been
childhood sweethearts and we have never had eyes for anyone else. I was the only daughter
of an extraordinarily rich man and Gerald, the only son of our neighbour at the London
house in Park Lane.
When we were married, Gerald was twenty-three and I a year younger. We were, and
still are, very much in love. Up until our anniversary, I had never had a single thought
about slavery. Oh yes, I knew what it was and how terrible an institution it had been up
to the time of its abolition in the Nineteenth Century, but apart from its history, I knew
nothing of it in its modern version at all. But then, on that fateful morning, I woke
first and, as was my wont, turned to look at the sleeping body of my handsome husband.
Yes, he was handsome, with his fine, soft, silver-blond hair, his tanned face and his
beautiful body, which he worked hard to keep slim, supple and muscular by his love of
gymnastics, but he was also a wonderful man. He had just the right mix of caring
attention to and for me, while at the same time allowing me perfect freedom to pursue my
own interests and of course I reciprocated. He was also marvellous with other people –
all people. Class meant nothing to him (or to me) and he treated our servants as
courteously as he did the highest peer in the realm, or the king himself.
As it always did at these times, I felt my libido rising as I stared down at his naked
body but I quickly repressed it. We had had a wonderful night of unbridled sex before we
had gone to sleep last night and while I would have delighted in another, we had things to
do this day…
But then something came over me. It was a wash of love for him, but there was
something else, too. I can’t put a finger on it, but I felt this overwhelming urge to go
down to the kitchens and bring up Gerald’s early morning tea and toast.
We always enjoyed this half hour before actually rising when we would sit up in the
bed and talk over the day ahead, his and mine, but we always waited for Milly, my maid or
Peter, Gerald’s valet, to bring it in.
Now, for some inexplicable reason, I felt the urge to go down and make it myself. I
jumped out of bed, as naked as Gerald, and went down the grand staircase just as I was,
stark naked and not caring one whit about it. That in itself was extraordinary. Gerald
and I went about quite freely that way in the privacy of our own suite, but we never ever
ventured out of it without being properly dressed and yet I seemed not to even be aware of
my nakedness as I ran down the stairs, then to the passage that led back to the kitchens
at the back of the castle.
Oh, here, I should say that when my parents died, I inherited a vast estate which
included this castle in the Highlands of Scotland, the house in Park Lane and penthouse
apartments in New York and the Gold Coast of Queensland, Australia, as well as an enormous
portfolio of stocks and shares, commercial real estate and the like.
It was now summer and we had always spent the warm weather at the castle. It stood on
a neck of land that reached right out into the loch and, like much of northern Scotland,
was almost completely bare of any vegetation except grass and low scrub.
Gerald had not yet come into his fortune but he had a very respectable allowance and
in any case, I could never in a million years spend even a fraction of my income so it was
quite immaterial.
Anyway, I naturally passed some of the servants beginning their day’s work as I made
my way downstairs and into the kitchen. The surprising thing was that not a one of them,
male or female, turned a hair at my nudity. Neither did they, by word, gesture or look,
appear to notice it – or to even look at my body in a way that suggested salacious
interest.
Like Gerald, I am fanatical about keeping it slim and supple for my beautiful husband.
We eat sparingly and of healthy foods; we both exercise hard in the gym Gerald built in
the old and unused orangery out on the side of the building, and we both play hard at our
own favourite sports. And so my body, while perhaps a trifle athletic for some male
tastes, is exactly what Gerald likes, just as his is to me.
The weird thing, I felt not the slightest qualm about appearing naked before them and,
as I prepared the tea and toast, while Cook looked on fondly, we chatted as we always did
about this and that.
And then I took it up to him.
By this time he had woken and was sitting up in bed but as I entered the room holding
the tray in my hands, he, unlike the servants, stared at me in a mixture of awe and
horror. “Steph! You didn’t go downstairs like that?”
Now, for the first time, I realised what I had done but still it didn’t faze me, not
one bit. What I said was: “Of course, my darling Gerry … slaves aren’t permitted to wear
clothes…”
Yes. I did. I really said it, without even thinking about it. Again he stared at
me.
“Slaves?” he stuttered, paused as if trying to work out my words, then went on,
somewhat inconsequentially, “Don’t they? – but be that as it may, you aren’t a slave and
in any case, slavery was abolished nearly two centuries ago…”
“Oh no, my darling husband. Well, yes, that sort of slavery was, but I am now your
slave and I expect you to keep me in line at all times…”
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