"Yes mistress," said Freida after getting over the shock of Mrs. Hendersons words. Thankfully, the older woman turned around and made her way into her Bentley which was parked across the street.
Freida hopped on one foot, getting her shoes and socks on before jumping into the backseat. Once inside, she obediently removed her footwear again.
They drove for a good hour without talking as traffic slewed seamlessly around them. Frieda occupied herself by staring at the upscale resturants and clear blue sky. She wished she had a good book with her.
When they reached Mrs. Hendersons mansion, Freida stepped outside and followed her owner past the iron black gates and through a meticulous garden bursting all around the house. Through a heavy oak door into a walled, smaller, more luxurious garden with a stone fountain and finally into the main house itself.
It is late, Frieda thought with a shiver. Surely she will not tickle me today.
"Kneel by the door," ordered Mrs. Henderson. "Head down, wrists behind your back." Then she left to go to the kitchen.
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