Bedtime Confessions (The Chambermaid's Tales - Short Stories) Read Online Free PDF

business. As I walk there, I realise she knows me too well. She knows I need my work to keep me sane. Even that man who claimed to love me knew that.
     
    I told my employers I am leaving and what did they do? They insisted I train up a little newbie in recompense. Oh, please. But then as I thought about it, the promise of what I might be able to impart smoothed away my reluctance a little. It could be fun; my last laugh as Lottie ‒ the Chambermaid ‒ before I depart for better lands.
    I tried to negotiate a neutral zone for the exercise because it won't be a quick in-and-out job, like I'm used to. I asked for the location to be somewhere outside the county, but not too far. So, they have sent me to fucking London. Cripes. His town. My lover's town. Former lover…
    I got on the phone straight away and cussed like a trucker in a bid to get the meeting moved, so that I wouldn't have to go anywhere near Him. But then they told me… the meet-up is in an office in The Shard. Dear Lord. It's a euphemistic bloody nightmare. A metaphorical challenge. It's a beckoning beacon of glorious manhood. I have to do it. Shit. All kinds of possibilities ran through my mind.
    A few days passed and now I am riding the train from Nottingham to London, preparing for a full, all-out indoctrination that will see my so-called slave turned into a Mistress. Men rarely ask for these instances, because the cost is astronomical (hence the recompense to my employers for me leaving), but whichever client asked for this must be fucking insane. Well, the man can take insane and shove it up his ass, he hasn't met me yet!
    Yes, this is going to be on-the-job training at its best. You'll see. You will. It' s war. This man ‒ like I say, whoever he is ‒ probably did not reckon on getting me that day. Nor what I have in mind.
    I look down at my iPhone and read the email the agency sent me. I have already read it dozens of times, but one more shan't hurt.
     
    The cl ient requires a skilled Mistress to train a nubile young lady for his pleasure. The learner will obviously be for other men's pleasure too, in time, so she needs instilling in all areas of domination. He has paid handsomely to see his little temptress be educated before his very eyes. He requires that.
    He prefers to be hit with the paddle or the riding crop, but not the flogger. No. He does not request the flogger.
     
    Pah, I bought three floggers, in red, white and blue. To match his royal colours in the morning, aft er I am done with him. The saucy devil. I know such requests are more often than not incitements. Especially if the agency has warned the client beforehand of my real, actual, taste for bloodshed. If they approve, I approve.
    I read on…
     
    I require lace. I require beauty. I require elegance, and above all, I require complete privacy with the Mistress after she has trained the apprentice.
     
    That means, he possibly wants full sex. He's not getting it though. I am done with that. Done. No sex for me, ever again. Done, I tell you.
    As I hit King's Cross, I shudder. I pull my collar up around my neck and hunch over, trying to appear unattractive. I need to blend in. I need to hide. The swarms and the crowds aggravate me a little, but then, for whom don't they? I am nothing special there. But then as I wonder why I am feeling so sick, a part of me thinks I am responding to the possibility of there being a certain Mr Yeardley in the vicinity. I wonder whether it is paranoia or whether it is even the fact that his very aura, even though it might be a mile or two away, is seeking me. His telekinetic abilities are trying to drown me in his thoughts. In his arms. Return to me Charlotte. I love you. I need you. Come back.
    They may actually be my thoughts. I am not so sure of anything. As I sweep into the Underground, I simply know that being in the very city he works in makes me on edge. He could creep up on me at any moment! He could. He could undo so many months of trying to fix