Taught to Serve Read Online Free PDF Page A

absence.
    The bedroom had as its centrepiece the four-poster bed. No drapes or canopy, but bare framed and almost clinical in style. The rest of the room had nothing but a couple of chairs and a tallboy chest of drawers. The walk-in closet was where they dressed and she did her make-up. Walking around the bed, she peered underneath, and there, neatly laid out was a pale pink thong. She picked it up and gave it a sniff. Laundry fresh. At least he had not raided the laundry basket. She slipped on the thong, grateful for a least some coverage. As she did a tiny piece of paper slipped out of the fabric. Block letters in Rob’s handwriting were clearly legible.
    GO CLEAN THE BATHROOM
    Taking the advice, she went into the en suite. Nothing around the floor or sink, and thankfully not by the toilet either. Hanging down from the brass showerhead was another pair of knickers. Casey had to climb into the bath to reach, and again a tiny flutter of paper fell into her hands. The white hipster-shaped bikini slipped over the thong.
    MAKE ME COFFEE
    The kitchen was her next hunting ground. She took the time to make his coffee, grinding the fresh beans and percolating the grounds for the exact time he specified. As she waited, she sought out her underwear. Hanging from a wooden knob off the Welsh Dresser was a black lacy pair of her fancier knickers. It was getting harder to squeeze the elasticated waist over the previous two pairs to make the next pair fit comfortably. Bits of different coloured fabric stuck out, and the thong had well and truly been sucked up between her legs. She pulled the skirt down, almost ashamed to see what she was wearing.
    The note this time read:
    A COOKIE PLEASE
    Sighing, Casey went to the biscuit barrel, which was an antique Fox’s tin with archaic decorations of a bygone era. Slipping her fingers inside, she found the next pair of knickers in amongst the cookies. Brushing the crumbs off, the grey pair reminded her of school knickers worn under skirts for sports lessons.
    “Fuck!” she groaned. She hated them. Where he had found them was a mystery; she never bought them. At least they went over the two previous pairs relatively easily. The next note was buried amongst the cookies.
    FETCH COALS
    Now she knew the fire was not lit, and yet she had to fetch coal. Taking the coffee and cookie on a tray, she set off to deliver the beverage and retrieve the coal scuttle from the fireplace.
    Rob did not look up when she entered the room but did express his gratitude as she lay the tray on the small table next to him. Casey desperately wanted him to notice her, to give her a small smile and to recognise the effort she was putting into his task. But he ignored her, and she despondently picked up the coal scuttle and left.
    The coal shed was by the back door, and flicking on the light switch, she grimaced. Tiptoeing in her high heels, she found the shovel and began to shift a few loads of coals into the scuttle. Dust flew up, and she coughed. Where were her knickers? Turning to leave and feeling unsure what to do if she failed to find what she sought, she spied them. Hanging from the hook on the back of the door, a red over the top frilly pair, which she had worn once and regretted. Standing in the back of the house, she heaved the pair over the previous ones. They looked ridiculous puffed out by the others, and her bottom had grown in size. Now they were visible below the hem of the skirt.
    She felt childish, like a baby with an enormous padded bottom, and she feared he would require her to stick a pacifier in her mouth. The brass coal scuttle was heavy, and she did not want him to see her. She hoped she could sneak back in and return it without him noticing her.
    Then she remembered the note. There was none, or perhaps she had missed it. Back in the coal shed, she looked on the floor, and it was there, trampled in the dust and fragments of coal.
    Blowing on the paper, she could just make out his handwriting.
    BUILD A