Snowflakes fell on my scarf and my eyelashes, but he was busy taking a pair of deckchairs out of the boot. He set them up beside the car, took out a flask and spoke his first words to me.
‘Sit down. Time for a tea break.’
How civilised. A tea break in the snow.
I sat on the deckchair and drank a plastic cup of welcomingly scalding tea while the flakes grew bigger and fatter around me. The chauffeur’s burst of eloquence appeared to be short-lived, for he offered nothing further in the way of conversation until the flask was empty.
Then he fixed me with a piercing stare and said, ‘Now you need to relieve yourself.’
‘What? No, I’m fine,’ I said, clasping my hands in my lap, though actually I was feeling a little uncomfortable after all that tea.
‘His Lordship’s orders. I am to oversee you. Come on.’
He pulled me to my feet with his leather-gloved hand and led me through the scrubby bushes that bordered the layby, into a ploughed field beyond.
‘Here,’ he said. ‘You won’t be visible from the road.’
‘I can’t …’
‘You’ll do it, or I have His Lordship’s authorisation to punish you.’
‘Punish me? How?’
‘You don’t want to find out. Now lift your skirts and squat.’
His command made my throat dry and my clit pulse. I turned my back on him and dropped to a crouch, gathering the heavy coat-skirts up and raising them to my waist. Now only my black jersey dress concealed my thighs and sex. I rocked from side to side, edging my stupidly high-heeled feet as far apart as I could without losing balance – I really didn’t want to splash the shiny patent leather, or my stockings.
I glanced over my shoulder at the chauffeur, who was watching impassively from a distance of about six feet. There was nothing for it. I would have to lift my dress and give him a flash of my pale bare bum.
God, it was cold, and snowflakes landed on my cheeks, melting straight away. I angled my body forward and let the liquid stream, thinly at first, then in a solid jet, down to the hard ground.
I was pissing myself in front of a strange man, with my bare arse on show.
It was uncomfortable and my bare skin was in danger of freezing, but I felt a surge of pure lustful joy as the last drops fell. I looked back anxiously. I had nothing to wipe myself with.
The chauffeur stepped forward, handing me a crisp white handkerchief.
It seemed a shame to spoil it, but I used it anyway.
‘Put it in here,’ said the chauffeur gruffly, passing me a zip-loc bag. ‘His Lordship will want to see proof of your obedience.’
I had passed the first test. I stood and let my skirt and coat drop back over my nakedness, then followed him back to the car.
While packing up the chairs, he said, ‘No more questions, or that punishment will still happen.’
‘What sort of punishment?’
He sighed.
‘Stand facing the car and put your hands up to the roof.’
Oh. That counted as a question. Now I’d earned the retribution. How easy these traps were to fall into.
I swallowed, putting my hands on the car roof. I could peer over and watch the traffic pass by on the nearby road. How much of what we did would be visible to them? Between the snow and the smoked glass of the car windows, probably not much, I guessed. All the same, here I was, outside by a busy main road, facing an indeterminate punishment.
‘Take off your coat,’ he said.
‘But it’s cold!’