Jan's Story

 

I don't ever want to see you again, bitch!” The door slammed behind me and I was out on the street. Three years of living with Jane had just gone up in smoke. Ok, it was my fault. Letting her find me with Cindy's head buried between my thighs had been the last straw. I might even have got away with it if she hadn't found me in much the same position with Mary a few days ago. But now the rows, like the relationship were well and truly over, and I traipsed over to Christine's flat to see if I could sleep on her couch.

 

My name is Jan, I'm twenty-seven, I work in PR, and I'm a lesbian. I guess I always have been but it wasn't until that affair at collage that I realized I didn't want to hide it any more. Dad freaked when I came out, and mum threw a total wobbler but, after a while, they got round to the 'as long as you're happy' phase and they've grown to live with it.  For the last three years I've been living with Jane but I've always had a roving eye and, in the end, it didn't work out. Now I'm back to trawling through the Evening Standard looking for flat shares. Christine is always good for a sofa for the night but her partner, Sally, doesn't completely trust me and it's a bit awkward.

 

As I read through the classifieds I'd almost given up hope of finding anywhere decent, and was getting resigned to ending up sharing some grotty place somewhere in Walthamstowe when I spotted the ad:-

 

Single, professional, non-smoking woman required for house share in North Finchley. Convenient for Northern Line Tube and buses.

 

£250pm plus £250 deposit

 

Phone Andrea on xxxx xxx xxxx

 

The price was right, the location, whilst not exactly central London, was reasonable, and it sounded so much better than any of the others, so I gave this Andrea a call and introduced myself. As we chatted on the phone we seemed to hit it off almost immediately and, as luck would have it, she worked just round the corner from me so we agreed to meet for drinks after work.

 

The Rose and Crown gets very crowded at five thirty and it was quite a job to spot Andrea amongst the mob around the bar but I found her eventually and we went over to a quiet corner to chat. As I looked her up and down my first impressions were so misleading. Andrea is several years older than me and, dress wise, we're chalk and cheese. I like to keep up with the fashions and my hair is short and spiky. Andrea’s appearance, on the other hand, could best be described as dowdy. There was an air of middle age frump about her.  Her clothes were chosen for practicality; I could easily imagine the plain white sensible Marks and Spencer knickers she would wear. Her shoulder length hair was cut in a boring, normal style. I quickly decided to keep quite about my sexuality; she didn't seem the sort to be particularly broad minded.

 

As a second glass of wine followed the first we started to relax a bit. I still wrote her off as pleasant but dull; we may end up sharing a house but I had no desire to share her bed. As we talked more about ourselves she explained that she had recently been divorced but had kept the house. Whist she was financially independent, fully employed at a legal firm in the city, she'd welcome the extra income that a lodger would provide. By now I was completely sold. Plain, solid, boring Andrea was exactly the landlady I required; a quiet bolt hole from the madness that seems to surround the rest of my life. As long as her house was anything like habitable I'd be glad to move in. Andrea finished off her second drink, gave me a long, hard look and seemed to come to a conclusion.

 

Well” she said, “I think you’re just the sort of person I’m looking for; I'd be quite happy for you to come and live with me. Would you like to see the house?”

 

Naturally I agreed so we left the pub together and headed for the tube. Forty minutes later and I was being shown round her solid, respectable house in a quiet back street in N12. Yes, this would do, I thought to myself, I could live here until something better arrived.

 

Andrea's Story

 

As I let myself in after another dull day at the office I sighed with depression. Ever since that bastard Michael had left me the house had felt cold and empty. I picked up the mail from the mat; bills, bills and more bills. It looked like it would be another month of scrimping and saving. I glanced at myself in the hall mirror. I looked as dull as I felt. Since the divorce I'd found it difficult to be upbeat about anything. I know that some ex-wives find an extra lease of life when their husbands ditch them for a younger model, getting their own back by finding toy boys, but I simply couldn't raise the energy. Although it had been more than a year since decree absolute the words, the hurts, the pain still echoed round my head. Divorce is supposed to be 'fault free' nowadays but he just had to bring up my, as he called it, bizarre sexual tastes as part of the reason. He just loved humiliating me in court, making me out to be some sort of depraved witch. What he really meant was that he was now getting his kicks with some bimbette half his age. Sod the bastard!

 

I traipsed through to the kitchen and began to prepare yet another frozen meal for one. Another evening on my own, another evening wasted in front of the box watching rubbish because that's all that's on. I knew I was stuck in a rut, that I had to do something to break out of this cycle of depression but I just didn’t know where to start.

 

As I ate I flicked through the Evening Standard. In a moment of clumsiness the paper slipped onto the floor and fell open at the flat share pages. As I picked it up inspiration struck me; I could solve two problems at once. Find someone nice to move in and I'd have company and a bit of extra cash. I looked through the ads, got the general tone, and made a few notes on a scrap of paper. Tomorrow I'd place my ad. Maybe this was what I needed. Feeling positive for the first time in months I slipped the notes into my purse and went off to bed.

 

My positive mood was nearly destroyed by the first bunch of replies. I seemed to have attracted every nutter in town and I couldn't put the phone down fast enough on some of them. Why can't people read? When I asked for single, non-smoking professional women I didn't mean those with kids, those on Social Security, heavy smokers, and above all men! I'd almost give up in despair when Jan called and the difference was refreshing. She seemed very pleasant, she fitted the description, and, as she worked just round the corner, we agreed to meet for a drink after work.

 

When we met I was struck by how young she was. It turned out she was twenty-seven, but she dressed much younger and had a spiky, almost punk, hair-do. Still, I suppose it's expected of these PR types, they're all flamboyant extroverts, and, as we settled down, she seemed really nice. I wasn't sure just how much we'd have in common, she certainly wasn’t what I had in mind when I placed the ad, but at least she was clean and well presented. Eventually I bit the bullet and invited her back to see the house.

 

As we took the tube back to North Finchley we relaxed even more and I'd made up my mind that she'd do long before we reached the house. When I showed her round she seemed impressed by what she found and was delighted when we got to the spare room. By the time we returned to the lounge I think we both knew she was going to move in and, as it turned out that she was staying with friends, it seemed that the sooner she moved in the better. A few minutes chat and the deal was done. She'd move in next Saturday.

 

Jan's Story

 

Once I'd settled in, it soon tuned out to be the best move I could have made. Andrea was the perfect landlady, there was plenty of room in the house and she even had her own en-suite so we didn't clash in the mornings. She started cooking me supper from time to time, explaining that she'd got so bored with eating alone and she loved the company. Moreover, she didn't inquire where I was off to when I went out clubbing, nor did she mind what time I got home as long as I did not to wake her. I was, however, careful not to bring my conquests back however much it cramped my style. Andrea had made it clear that this wouldn't be appreciated; “I'd prefer it if you didn't bring boys back” were her exact words. I think she'd have totally freaked if I brought home some of the girls from the clubs!

 

I'd been there about six weeks when everything changed. It was Saturday morning and I was mooching around in the kitchen having a late breakfast when I heard an almighty crash from upstairs. I dashed upstairs to Andrea's room wondering what on earth I would find. Would I end up calling an ambulance? The crash had certainly seemed loud enough to suggest so. I suppose I should have knocked but I was so concerned that I just barged into her room to find out if she was Ok.

 

When I entered I found Andrea, in her dressing gown and pajamas, sprawled on the floor next to an upturned chair. A couple of suitcases and some boxes lay scattered beside her. It didn't take much to work out what had happened. She must have been clearing out the top of her wardrobe when the whole lot had come down bringing her with it. I helped her to her feet and sat her on the bed.

 

“Are you alright?” I asked.

 

“Yes, fine, I'm just a bit bruised and shaken, that's all.” She replied.

 

I reached down and started to pick up the boxes. One was much heavier than it looked and, as I grabbed it, it split open and its contents fell to the floor. For a moment I just stood there aghast. There on the floor was a collection of obvious bondage gear. It was all a bit too jumbled to make out exactly what was there but I could clearly see leather cuffs, bits of chain, and a paddle, ready and waiting to be applied to a willing arse!

 

Without a word I shoveled all the stuff back in the box. I didn’t want to make a fuss; I could tell Andrea was deeply embarrassed and she'd had enough with the fall. Once it was all back I suggested a cup of tea which she gratefully accepted. I went down to the kitchen to make it and, before the kettle boiled, Andrea followed me down, still in her dressing gown.

 

Andrea's Story

 

I could have died on the spot! There it all was, my guilty secret, spilt out on the floor in front of Jan. What would she think of me? I was expecting cries of horror or disgust but she was sweetness itself, and didn't bat an eyelid. As she went to make me a cup of tea I resolved that she deserved to hear the rest.

 

I followed her downstairs and we sat together at the kitchen table. The fall had shaken me, and I guess I was still quite emotional, and that all added to the feeling that I just had to tell someone. I just hoped she wouldn't be too shocked.

 

“Jan,” I started, “about that stuff... I think I need to explain.”

 

“You really don't have to.” Jan replied. “But if you want to... Was that why you got divorced, Michael wanted to do all sorts of kinky stuff and you refused?”

 

“Not exactly, it was more of the other way around, actually. I wanted the kinky stuff, he was the one who didn’t.” There, I'd said it!

 

“Wow, is that what turns you on?” Jan seemed intrigued rather than shocked.

 

“Yes, it's... it's... It's difficult to explain but, yes, it's what I like. There's something about being controlled, being subject to someone else's will, that really gets to me. Michael did try to get into it once or twice but I could see that his heart wasn't in it. When I bought all the stuff you just saw he completely flipped, called me all sorts of names. In the end it just became my guilty secret in a box on top of the wardrobe.”

 

From then on it all just flowed. I'd kept this secret bottled up inside me for so long, never daring to tell anyone, and now I couldn't stop. I explained how, in my fantasies, I was a naughty girl who had to be punished, how I would be tied up, humiliated and spanked. I expected Jan to be horrified but seemed to take it very calmly, barely interrupting except to ask the occasional question. Each question seemed to spur me on, help me to unburden myself, help me to tell her secrets I’d hardly admitted to myself.

 

“Poor you, all those toys and no-one to play with.” Jan still seemed sympathetic. “How do you scratch that itch?”

 

“I don't. I guess I've got used to the celibate life. I've thought about searching out one of those clubs, but it seems very risky, putting myself under the control of complete strangers. I'd love to meet someone to play with but I just don't know how.”

 

“What about me?” Jan said quietly.

 

There was a long, long silence as what Jan had just suggested sunk in. She sat there with a friendly smile on her face as natural as if she had offered a walk in the park rather than...

 

“But… Jan!” I said at last. “But you're a woman. I can’t, not with a woman; I'm not a lesbian.”

 

“But I am.” Jan replied. It seemed this was the time for both of us to be open. I suppose I should have been shocked but, compared to me, this seemed quite normal.

 

“Look, we've got to know each other quite well over the last few weeks.” Jan continued. “I trust you, and I hope you trust me. Why don't we have some fun together? Here's a plan. I've got nothing on tonight that I can't cancel. Why don't you cook us a nice meal, we'll split a bottle of wine, and then you show me your toys. If it works out, great, if it doesn't then we'll both forget it ever happened. Go on, step outside your comfort zone for a change, you know you want to.”

 

“I don't know... We'll have to see... Can I say yes or no later?” My mind was a maelstrom of emotions. I don't know if I was still dizzy from the fall, or from the conversation. I couldn't, not with a woman, not with Jan! On the other hand part of me could feel the paddle across my buttocks, part of me ached to be the submissive again. It had been so long since I'd... Maybe, just this once, maybe I should...

 

“Let me think about it. Please Jan, let me have a think. I'm not saying no, and I'm grateful that you offered, but I just don't know...”

 

“Certainly, we'll talk later. Do you fancy another cuppa?” Jan got up and went to the kettle.

 

Jan's Story

 

What a turn up for the books! Once she'd got in the confessional mood it all poured out. It seems that boring, frumpy, Andrea is a secret bondage freak. I was seeing her in a different light and no mistake. We, or rather she, talked for quite a while and, as she talked a wicked thought began to form in my mind. She gets her kicks from bondage, I get my kicks from converting 'straight' women; we could both have fun and scratch each other’s itches. Given that she was in this confessional mood I decided to match it with a frank and open offer. When I suggested playing together that evening she got very flustered but she didn't say no, and I just knew she'd say yes in the end.

 

Anyway, we both had things to do during the day so we left it hanging and went our separate ways. I went up to my room, powered up my PC and did some searching on the Internet. Although I’ve never been afraid of trying out new ideas in the bedroom I've never been into the whole bondage/S&M thing so I needed to do some research. By the time I’d finished I had plenty of ideas; some of the sites I found certainly opened my eyes. Later that afternoon I also found the time to nip out for a little shopping; there were a couple of items I just might need. The only question was whether Andrea would bottle out.

 

At five-o-clock I was reading in the lounge when Andrea came down. Although she didn’t say anything directly I could immediately tell that she hadn’t bottled out. The difference in her was amazing. She'd chosen a tight black cocktail dress that suited her figure; she’d fixed her hair, and put on some make-up. The dowdy mouse was certainly coming out of her shell and I was beginning to appreciate that she really is quite an attractive woman. She told me supper would be ready at six thirty and went to the kitchen to start cooking. Meanwhile I went upstairs to shower and get changed; if she could make the effort then the least I could do was reciprocate. I don't do dresses, they're just not me, but I found a trouser suit which fitted me well and looked suitably dominant. I'd just got ready when Andrea called me down to dinner.

 

When I returned downstairs I found that the dining table had been laid out for a romantic meal for two with all the trimmings. A candle flickered gently and the lights were low. A bottle of very nice Chablis was resting in a cooler. Andrea motioned me to sit and we started the meal.

 

I tried to keep the conversation light and easy. I could see that Andrea was very nervous and I wanted to keep her as calm as possible. Neither of us mentioned where the night might be heading but it was easy to see what was on her mind. Fortunately she had kept the food light and simple, there's nothing worse than gymnastic sex when you’re feeling all bloated after eating too much. Throughout the meal she fussed round me, refusing to let me lift a finger, and she kept the wine flowing so we were both a little tipsy by the end.

 

As I dabbed the last remnants of desert from my lips Andrea looked up at me.

 

“I'll wash up in the morning. Would you like to come upstairs?”

 

We got up from the table and headed for her room.

 

Andrea's Story

 

After my morning confession my mind was in turmoil. There was an immense sense of relief that I’d finally found the courage to tell someone and then there was Jan’s reaction; instead of the shock or disapproval that I thought I’d get, she was suggesting that we… And then my mind whirled again. Jan, a lesbian! I’d never guessed, she’d certainly kept quiet about it, and now she was suggesting… I’d never even looked at a woman in that way before. The very thought of it disturbed me deeply, but, and this really bothered me, I couldn’t tell if I was shocked or intrigued. Part of my fantasies involved being violated by brutes with huge penises; what would a woman do to me? In my mind’s eye I kept trying to imagine what she would be like, imagining myself, bound and gagged, the feel of the strap, how much would it matter what the sex of the person wielding it was?

 

I went back upstairs to finish off tidying above the wardrobe. Although Jan had replaced most of the stuff in the box it was still visible, taunting me. How silly to have all this stuff and never use it. All the dreams I’d had of playing with Michael had gone so sour. I picked up a wrist cuff and fiddled with it for a while. Suddenly a wave of resolve washed through me. Who cared what Michael thought or said; he’d gone from my life. Why was his disapproval still a factor? Why was I so scared to indulge in something that made me feel so good? And if it all went wrong, well, we’d cross that bridge if and when we got to it.

 

Having made my mind up I knew I had to act or I’d start getting doubts again. First things first, I had to do something about my appearance, something to lose that frumpy look that had become my everyday image. I opened the wardrobe and started to search through. Somewhere I had my naughty schoolgirl outfit but, give the difference in our ages, it didn’t seem quite appropriate. I couldn’t see Jan as the stern headmistress. Anyway it looked far too tarty and that wasn’t the image I wanted.  If I were going to do this I wanted to look far more sophisticated. Finally I chose a black cocktail dress that I hadn’t worn in ages. Nothing too sexy, not too much cleavage, I didn’t want to flaunt myself, but I did want something that flattered my figure. I glanced in the mirror. Forty was just around the corner and it was starting to show. Nothing too bad, though, during my depression I’d hardly eaten a thing so I’d lost those pounds that were beginning to bulge around the middle.

 

The next thing to sort out was some underwear. I opened my knickers draw and looked through it in disgust. It seemed that everything I owned was plain white cotton. Functional and hardwearing but hardly the thing for tonight; what a frumpy cow I’d become! Still there was time to nip to the shops during the afternoon and find something better.

 

Then I laid out the contents of the box on the bed as I didn’t want Jan to have to rummage through it. While I did so the reality of what I was planning hit me again and my heart began to race; I could feel a little tingle in my groin. Was I really going to go through with this? There was still time to back out, but the sight of all the bits and pieces laid out before me added to the thrill. Soon, so soon, I’d be… I’d be what exactly? Who knows what Jan was planning? I hoped she wasn’t going to disappoint.

 

Then it was time to go to the shops. It felt quite strange browsing for silky lingerie; it had been so long since I’d been with someone who would even see my underwear, let alone appreciate it. I wanted to find something that looked sexy without looking cheap. As I browsed through the racks it brought home to me what I was doing, preparing my self for my lover, and that increased the thrill, increased the anticipation. I wasn't sure what Jan would want me to wear, I'd never dressed for a woman before, but it was important for my self esteem that I looked my best. In the end I chose a black chemise top trimmed with lace combined with matching French knickers. Stylish, sophisticated and sexy, and my breasts are still firm enough, thank heavens, not to need a bra.

 

Back home I ran myself a long hot bath to help me relax. However, if anything, it did the opposite; it reminded me of what was in store for tonight, as if I were getting myself ready to be her sacrifice. I washed myself thoroughly and, if I spent a minute or two too long soaping between my thighs, then that was simply more of getting myself in the mood. In disgust I looked at my pubic hair. I’d left it untrimmed for ages and it was an unruly bush. I’m not into shaving, Michael asked me to try it once and I itched for days, but I do like to look tidy so I trimmed it back to a nice close cut.

 

Once out of the bath I went back to my room to get dressed and to try on my new undies for the first time. As I looked in the mirror the phrase ‘mutton dressed as lamb’ crossed my mind. What on earth would a young girl like Jan want with an old hag like me? Still, it was her who had suggested it.

 

I went downstairs to prepare the meal. I really wanted to make it special and cooking a romantic meal for two was another thing I hadn’t done in ages so I pushed the boat out a bit. I fetched two of the better bottles of Chablis from the rack and put them in the fridge. I didn’t want to get us drunk but a couple of sips of wine might help loosen things up a bit. My nerves certainly needed it.

 

I did salmon steaks in a béarnaise sauce, asparagus tips and new potatoes. Simple, easy, light and, though I say it myself, pretty impressive. I got quite a buzz from being back in the kitchen with a purpose, cooking for someone other than myself. For desert I prepared a tiramisu, again keeping it light and easy. I laid out the table with the best silver and lit a candle, exactly the romantic setting I wanted.

 

All through the meal my heart was a-flutter. Jan seemed to be enjoying her food and was pleasant company. Myself, I could hardly eat a thing, and had to hold myself back from fussing round her. It seemed forever before we had finally finished. At last she put down her spoon, wiped her lips on her napkin and looked up at me. Now for it, no going back, time to take the plunge…

 

“I'll wash up in the morning. Would you like to come upstairs?” I asked. Jan stood up, came over and kissed me. Then, taking me by the hand, she led me upstairs.

 

 

Jan’s Story

 

As soon as we got up from the table I knew it was time to take control. This wasn’t the first Sapphic virgin I’d introduced to the delights of lesbian sex and Andrea’s nerves were more than obvious. Taking her by the hand I led her straight to her bedroom and stood her in the center of the floor. Now to put into practice all the things I'd learnt on the web.

 

“You know why you’re here, don’t you?” I kept my voice stern and hard.

 

“Yes. Yes, Mistress.” She mumbled. I liked the sound of ‘Mistress’.

 

“So, tell me.”

 

“I’ve been naughty, Mistress. I need to be punished.”

 

“And do naughty little girls deserve any modesty?” I demanded.

 

“No, Mistress”

 

“So why have you still got your dress on? You should know better than that.” I snapped.

 

“I’m sorry, Mistress.”

 

As Andrea scrambled her way out of her dress I looked over the paraphernalia laid out on the bed. As well as a selection of leather cuffs and restraints there was the paddle, about eight inches by four inches of hard leather with a wooden handle attached. I picked it up and idly slapped the bed. The resounding ‘thwap’ was echoed by a squeak from Andrea. I looked up and saw her standing, looking fabulous in silky lingerie that suited her perfectly. The woman I'd once written off as boring and dowdy was standing before me looking gorgeous and delectable. One hand was held over her crutch, the other across her breasts. Her eyes were wide with nervous anticipation and she was gently biting her lower lip. It was all I could do to stop myself sweeping her into my arms and covering her with kisses, she looked so desirable. I went over and stood in front of her.

 

“Stand up straight!” I snapped. “Look at you, all dressed up like a French whore. You look like a cheap tart, and that's what you are, a cheap tart.”

 

Slowly I walked round her, inspecting her as a sergeant would inspect her troops. I kept a sneer on my face while I adjusted the strap of her chemise, not that it needed it, but the effect was noticeably getting through to her

 

“Kneel.” As Andrea got down on her knees I reached in my pocket for my afternoon purchase. I dangled it in front of her face.

 

“Do you know what this is?” I asked.

 

“Yes, Mistress. A collar, Mistress.”

 

“Yes, it’s a collar. Do you know what it means?”

 

“It means I’m your property, your pet, your slave.”  There was a wistful note in Andrea’s voice.

 

“You want to wear it, don’t you? You want to be my property. You want to be owned, controlled, to be my little pet, don’t you? Don’t you?”

 

“Yes, please, Mistress. Please let me wear your collar.”

 

“You can ask nicer than that, can’t you?”

 

“Please, Mistress, your slave begs you to allow her to wear your collar. Please let me be your pet, I promise to be obedient to your every whim. Please, Mistress, please.”

 

“No.” The look of shocked disappointment on Andrea’s face was priceless, like a little child being deprived of sweets. “If you’re going to wear this collar you’re going to have to earn it. You’re going to have to prove to me that you deserve it. Do you think you can do that?”

 

“Please, Mistress. I’ll do anything you say, anything to please you.”

 

“Yes, you will. Now, it’s time I spanked you. Get on the bed and kneel down with your face on the pillows.” Andrea started to get up but I pushed her back down. “Did I say you could stand up? Crawl to the bed on your hands and knees.”

 

Whilst Andrea crawled to the bed I went over to the bondage gear and sorted out some cuffs. Once she was in position I pulled her arms back and, using double cuffs, attached them to her ankles. I pulled up her chemise and tugged down her knickers.

 

“Spread your knees, come on, wider.” Andrea struggled to obey. “Do you know why you’re like this, tied up with your bottom open and everything on display?”

 

“Yes, Mistress. I’m to be punished, Mistress.”

 

“Oh, but there’s more to it than that; you want to be here, don’t you? You’re aroused, aren’t you?” I reached down and cupped her pussy with my hand. “Look how wet you are, you’re like a bitch in heat. Do you know why that is?”

 

“Yes… No… I don’t know, Mistress.”  Andrea was rubbing herself against my hand. I felt with my fingers and found her clitoris.”

 

“It’s because you’re a slut, a disgusting, depraved slut! All you think about is your own pleasure, you’re sex obsessed. That’s why you want it and that’s why I’m going to punish you. Now, what are you?”

 

“A slut, Mistress.” Andrea mumbled into the pillow.

 

“Louder, I can’t hear you.”

 

“I’m a slut, Mistress. I’m disgusting and depraved and I need to be punished.” This time Andrea almost shouted. By now she was shamelessly rubbing herself against my hand. I gave her a few seconds more and then moved away.

 

“Do you know what a safe word is, slut?”

 

“Yes, Mistress.”

 

“Yours is ‘strawberry’” I reached down, took the paddle and struck her firmly across the buttocks.

 

Andrea’s Story

 

As soon as we got to the bedroom I found myself slipping easily into the submissive role. Even if I hadn’t Jan’s tone would have soon put me there. She immediately took control and in no time my dress was off and she was looking at me as if I were something she'd found on the sole of her shoe. A few snide remarks and I was kneeling at her feet as she dangled a collar in front of me. There’s something about a collar that strikes at the very heart of submission. It’s a symbol of being owned, of being a pet, or a slave, of being at the mercy of someone else’s will. I could see that there was a nametag attached. What had she had engraved? What was I to her? I longed to read it, I longed to wear it. However, no sooner had I asked to wear it than it was snatched away. I was to be made to beg to be her slave.

 

Unless you’re a submissive it’s difficult to appreciate the thrill this gave me. Here I was, a grown woman on my knees before a girl ten years my junior begging to be her slave but there’s a freedom in servitude that touches something deep inside me and satisfies some very basic urges. All my life I’ve been the ‘good’ girl, always prim and proper, always well behaved, always under control, but deep inside me there’s a wild beast that wants, nay needs, to abandon itself to uninhibited lust. As the slave abandons her freedom she abandons her responsibility; she is free to follow her wildest desires because she only does it to please her owner. Kneeling before Jan I would gladly have submitted to anything because, in satisfying her, I would be satisfying the beast in me.

 

Jan ordered me onto the bed, kneeling with my face in the pillows. Roughly she tugged my wrists back and cuffed them to my ankles. My chemise was lifted and my knickers pulled down. Then Jan ordered me to spread my legs so that my backside was up and open, displaying everything I have like the wanton trollop I am. Suddenly her hand was down there, covering my pussy, her fingers probing inside my slit. There was no hiding how aroused I was, how freely my juices flowed, how ready I was. As the tips of her fingers flicked against my clitoris I was screaming out what a depraved, disgusting slut I am, driven by need, driven by lust.

 

And then she reached for the paddle. As soon as the first blow landed years of pent up frustration started to come to the boil within me. The fire in my buttocks fed the fire in my groin. For a while I tried to control it, I bit the pillow, stifling my cries, but then I couldn’t, I didn’t want to, I needed to abandon myself, to lose control. With each blow my muscles convulsed, my arms strained against the cuffs holding them to my ankles and I was wriggling about so much that several times Jan needed to steady me with her hand. I started to sob uncontrollably, the tears running down my face but I didn’t care. I’d never felt so alive. I was in heaven, I was in hell, every nerve in my body was on fire, straining, urging, driving me higher, driving me wilder.

 

As the blows continued they all seemed to blur into one. My very being seemed centred on the ball of pain which engulfed by buttocks, my heart raced, my groin throbbed and I could feel my climax nearing. It was as if I just needed that one little push, that one little touch and I would be there. I could feel myself straining against the straps that held me, pushing my bottom higher. Through my sobbing I was begging Jan to strike harder, push me that extra inch but all that came out was ‘Please, Mistress. Oh, please I beg you.’ Over and over again.

 

And then the last blow fell. For a moment or two the room felt very quiet. I was still crying but the noise seemed to come from somewhere else, somewhere far away. I was floating, in limbo, on a sexual high which demanded release, awaiting whatever it was that would happen next. Jan put down the paddle and lay down on the bed beside me. I turned my head to face her and she reached across and started to gently, tenderly kiss away my tears.

 

“Thank you, thank you, Mistress.” I gasped as soon as my crying had subsided enough.

 

“And does my little slut slave need to come now?” Jan asked, her voice full of tease and a wicked smile on her face.

 

“Yes please, Mistress. Please let me come.”

 

“You’ll have to ask better than that.”

 

“Please, Mistress, please, I beg you. I need to come so badly. Please let your slut slave come.” The humiliation of having to beg for release, of admitting to the depth of my need, added to the thrill.

 

“No, I don’t think so, not now, maybe later, if I’m in a good mood, if I feel you deserve it. Like the collar, sexual gratification is something you're going to have to earn.” Jan replied casually.  “Now, you’re far too bunched up like this, I can’t get at you; I want you spread-eagled on your back. Just hang on whilst I adjust your bonds.”

 

I was horrified. Did she mean it? Would she be that cruel? Would she turn me on this much and then not do anything about it? I was too stunned to make any resistance as she rearranged me across the bed. I was vaguely aware of a vicious twinge as my battered buttocks touched the bed, of my arms and legs being tugged apart, of the chains being tightened and fastened holding me down.

 

“That’s better, now I can get at you. And now it’s playtime but first let me get rid of this top.” Jan knelt up on the bed and started to unbutton the jacket of her trouser suit. Her blouse, or perhaps I should say shirt, followed and she was naked from the waist up.

 

Jan’s Story

 

As soon as I started with the paddle it was like a dam had burst. With each blow Andrea's whole body flinched. The paddle obviously hurt and I wasn't holding back, her bottom was soon covered in bright red marks, and, after an initial resistance, she was sobbing openly. However, equally obvious was the depth of the emotions coursing through her, how much she was being turned on. The lips of her pussy were swollen and glistening with excitement. Her whole body worked against the restraints and she was moving about so much that a couple of times I had to steady her or she’d have fallen over. Once or twice I wondered if she would come simply from being paddled but each time the wave seemed to break just before she climaxed. Finally, with her whole bottom and upper thighs red with marks, I judged she had had enough.

 

As she calmed down I lay down on the bed beside her and kissed her face. Her eyes glistened with tears and anticipation but, if I were to play the cruel mistress, there was plenty more teasing to come before I let her have any relief. She was far too inaccessible, bunched up in the kneeling position so I rearranged her, spread eagled across the bed and, as it was time to get down to business, took off my jacket and shirt.

 

I lay down next to Andrea and began to tease. I pulled up her chemise and, as my hand stroked her belly, my lips kissed her breasts. Teasingly, tantalizingly, I kissed everywhere except her nipples. Meanwhile my hand was stroking and massaging her belly slipping from time to time beneath the waistband of her knickers but never straying beyond the top of her pubic hair. From time to time I caressed the grove that runs at the top of the thighs, following it down, closer and closer but never quite reaching her groin. I could tell this was having the desired effect; Andrea was moaning softly and giving little gasps of frustration every time my lips moved away, rather than towards her nipples. Finally I let my lips brush gently against the tip of her right nipple which solicited a gasp of ‘Oh, please!’

 

“Is that what you want? Do you want me to kiss your nipples?” I asked.

 

“Please, Mistress, please don’t tease anymore. I need to come so badly. Please, please, I beg you, please.”

 

“Seeing as you ask so nicely…” My head dropped down again but instead of kissing I used my teeth, biting hard. At the same time my hand pushed down and grabbed her pussy, pushing my fingers hard inside her.

 

Andrea’s Story

 

Once Jan had tied me up across the bed she started to tease. Every nerve in my body was alive, every sense heightened and the slightest little touches were driving me wild. Time and time again her lips would approach my nipples, or her fingers approach my slit, but each time she’d pull back. The tension inside me was unbearable; it felt as if one touch, one kiss, would be all it needed.

 

Finally her lips brushed my nipple and it was if an electric shock coursed through my body. I couldn’t bear it if she pulled away again and a gasp of ‘Oh, please’ escaped. Immediately Jan was making me beg again and the words came freely, I needed her touch so much I really would have gladly done anything, anything at all.

 

And then it happened, she bit down hard on my nipple and thrust her hand hard between my thighs. Twin rivers of fire shot through me, tearing me apart, exploding inside me. My senses imploded, my body jerked uncontrollably, straining against the cuffs at my wrists and ankles. I arched my back, driven upwards by the sheer intensity of the conflicting sensations coursing through my body, the arrows of pain from my nipple clamped between her teeth, the rugged force of Jan’s hand thrust so roughly inside me, grasping, squeezing, abusing me, the leather straps biting into my wrists and ankles, and then the explosion, the joyous explosion as my climax finally came and every inch of my body screamed YES, YES, YES!!!

 

For a moment or two I was transfixed, totally lost in a whirlwind of feelings, all my senses overloaded, my whole body screaming in pain and pleasure. And then the wave broke and slowly, as if returning from a far distance, I began to recover my senses. My muscles relaxed and I flopped back on the bed, limp and exhausted, like a rag doll. My body felt used and abused, but completely and absolutely satisfied. I knew my nipple, my buttocks and my vagina were going to be sore for quite some time but, oh, was it worth it! I turned my head and saw Jan lying beside me smiling like the cat who had swallowed the cream.

 

“You’re a naughty little girl.” She mocked.

 

“Yes, Mistress. I’m sorry, Mistress.”

 

“You weren’t supposed to come, not until I said so.”

 

“I’m sorry, Mistress, I couldn’t help it.”

 

“Hmm… So I saw. You know I’m going to have to punish you for that. Not right away, we’ll save that for later. Right now I’m going to undo your bonds and show you how to satisfy my needs.”

 

Jan undid the cuffs from my wrists and ankles and, as I removed the tangled mess that was my chemise and knickers Jan took off her trousers and panties and slipped into bed beside me. As our lips locked and our bodies curled together I couldn’t have cared less that I was making love to another woman, I was making love to my Mistress and I was ready and more than willing to serve her in any way she wanted.

 

To be continued…

Andrea's Story

 

I woke from a deep satisfying sleep to find myself wrapped in the arms of my lover. Well, maybe I’m overdoing it a bit, one night of sex, however fantastic, does not make for a full blown relationship but it was so good to wake up in someone’s arms again after all those years of sleeping alone. Although it was well gone nine-o-clock Jan was still sleeping soundly; I knew from our six weeks of sharing the house that she was not an early riser, especially on a Sunday. As I lay there I thought over the events of the previous night and I began to have serious doubts about exactly what we were going to do next. Did I want to take this further? Did Jan? Was I just a notch on her bedpost? Was this morning going to be a case of thanks, but no thanks; we'd had our fun but that was it? And, if she did want take this further, was this what I wanted? It wasn’t as if I had started any old relationship; If I was going to get involved in a lesbian affair what would on earth would my friends and family think? I couldn’t keep it hidden from them forever, nor, if I were serious about it, should I want to, but I could imagine the fuss that my parents would make. However, at that moment, I was just too damn happy to let these thoughts bother me too much. If there were problems ahead, well, I'd deal with them later, it had been far, far too long since I had woken up like this and I determined to enjoy the moment to the full.

 

I looked over at Jan. She lay on her back and her breasts, rising and falling as she breathed, were just crying out to be kissed. Before the previous night I’d never felt this way about another woman’s body but Jan's breasts, whilst not particularly large, are firm, pert and eminently kissable, so it just seemed like the natural thing to do. I leaned over and, trying not to wake her up, suckled gently, I felt safe, at peace with myself, enjoying the soft warmth of her skin against mine. There's something very comforting about a woman's body, so much softer, more welcoming than a man's. She looked really pretty, lying there sleeping, and, if it weren't that I didn’t want to wake Jan, I would have kissed her all over, savoring every inch of her firm young flesh.

 

The more my lips kissed the more her nipple swelled beneath them. Jan might be dead to the world but my kisses were obviously having the desired effect. However her slumbers couldn’t last forever and, after a while, she snuffled gently and rolled towards me, stretched her arms and gathered me in, hugging me close. With my head now held firmly to her breast, and no longer being afraid of waking Jan, I could let my hands wander, feeling the gentle curve of her hips, the silky skin of her tummy, the first few wiry hairs of her pubic bush. The more she awoke the more she responded, returning my caresses, hugging me closer. Then her hands moved to my head and pushed firmly, but not roughly, downwards. After last night I knew what she wanted and I needed no second urging. I slid down until I was at the foot of the bed and my head was where it belonged, between the thighs of my Mistress, worshiping at the centre of her pleasure.

 

Even as my tongue eased the folds of skin apart, searching inside her, I could tell that she was ready for me. I could taste that wonderful earthy taste that I had only discovered for the first time last night; the taste of an aroused woman. At first I just ran my tongue along the edges, opening her up like a flower but I soon settled down to concentrate on her clitoris; little flicks at first, brushing gently against the tip, and then settling down into a steady rhythm. The more the tip of my tongue flicked from side to side the more her juices flowed, the more her clitoris hardened, pushing out to meet me. Just twelve hours ago I had never done this, never even dreamed of doing this, but, here, worshiping my Mistress, being the source of her pleasure, making her feel like the goddess I adored, seemed so normal that I would wish to serve her in this way for as long as she would have me.

 

My tongue was doing its stuff and I could feel the muscles in Jan’s thighs tensing and her hands, resting on my head, gripped tighter. I responded by increasing the pressure of my tongue, still keeping the steady rhythm, still pushing her irresistibly up the slope towards her orgasm. Once, twice, three times I could feel her crest a wave of pleasure, but each time I held steady, pushing her higher until, suddenly, her whole body tensed, her hands gripped my hair forcing me hard into her groin.

 

“Oh, yes. Oh, yes, Oh that’s so good, don’t stop, don’t stop, Oh my God! Oh my God! Yes!!” Jan cried out as her climax peaked and, pushing me away she rolled over clutching the pillow.

 

For a moment or two we just lay there, getting or breath back; me crouched at the foot of the bed with Jan curled up in the middle. Then Jan lay back and stretched.

 

“Hmm, you certainly know how to wake me up nicely.” She purred. “Now, how about some coffee?”

 

“Certainly. I'm on my way.” Smiling contentedly, I got to my feet and went over to the door and reached for my dressing gown, hanging on its hook.

 

“Oh, no. You don't need that.” Jan ordered. “It's perfectly warm enough and you're fine as you are. Oh, and shouldn't you have called me 'Mistress'?”

 

“Of course, Mistress. I'm sorry, Mistress.” So that was how it was going to be today; the games weren’t over. I hurried downstairs to make coffee wondering excitedly what Jan had in store for me.

 

Jan’s Story

 

Hmm… There may be better ways to wake up than by having your nipple kissed by a woman who obviously adores you, but I haven’t found any yet! For a few minutes I just lay there, letting the day come into focus and letting the growing tingle in my breast wake a sister tingle in my groin, but, after a while, I wanted more so I rolled towards her and pulled her in tight. That was all the encouragement Andrea needed and, not only did her kissing grow more urgent, more intense, but her hands started to wander, caressing my waist, my thighs, my tummy, in fact everywhere she could reach. For a moment or two I thought about starting a full-blown session but I was still only half awake and I needed my coffee so I decided to keep it short and sweet.

 

I pushed Andrea’s head gently downwards and she got the message, sliding down the bed, pushing the duvet out of the way, until her face was nestled neatly in my groin. Despite her lack of experience Andrea was pretty nimble with her tongue and in moments she was lapping away like a good’un.

 

As I lay back and enjoyed the sensations I wondered idly exactly where we were going with this. Living in the same house made life a little more complex, I certainly couldn’t just show her the door as I had done with so many before. Furthermore I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to. Andrea was a little needy but she was sweet and kind and, it had to be said, I’d found the role of the stern Mistress more than a bit exciting. As long as we didn’t let things get out of hand I’d play along for a while at least. After all, I didn’t want to lose the house share.

 

Another thing I was definitely keen not to lose was Andrea’s willing tongue. Her steady, insistent rhythm was breaking through my reverie and I could feel myself starting to come. I lay back contentedly and let the delicious waves wash through me. Again and again my body tensed and relaxed as my pleasure peaked and receded, but each time Andrea held on, keeping the rhythm, pushing me higher. My whole body seemed centred on my groin, on the steady flick, flick, flick of Andrea’s tongue against my clit, and, in the end, the rhythm took me, lifted me up and washed me away in a glorious effervescent whirl until I could take no more and I surrendered to my pleasure.

 

When I came back down again Andrea was still kneeling at the foot of the bed, smiling sweetly, looking delectable; to think that I had written her off as plain and dowdy. But what I needed, more than anything else at that moment was coffee so, slipping into Mistress mode, I ordered it from my slave. Andrea hadn’t quite realized that, as far as I was concerned, we hadn’t stopped playing but a gentle reminder and she quickly acquiesced. As she scuttled downstairs I lay back in a contented haze and thought about some plans for the day. I’d got some ideas from my research on the web but I was still, basically, pretty new to all this. Andrea, by her own admission, was a pain slut but, and she’d mentioned this several times, she also got off on bondage and humiliation, and it was the humiliation bit that interested me.

 

I was still ruminating over the possibilities when Andrea returned with a tray set for coffee and toast for one. She cleared some space on the bedside table, put the tray down, curtsied sweetly and poured me a cup. I sat up and reached for the life-giving beverage as Andrea waited patiently beside the bed.

 

“So, do you have a vibrator?” I asked.

 

“Yes, Mistress. It’s in the draw of my bedside table.”

 

“Well, what are you waiting for? Fetch it out and let me see.” Andrea opened the draw of her bedside table and rummaged around for a bit. Eventually she pulled out one of those ‘rabbit’ style vibrators and handed it to me. I flicked the switch and checked that there was plenty of life in the batteries.

 

“Right, I want you to show me how you use it. Get up on the bed and kneel facing me.” I could see that Andrea was reluctant but she did as she was told and I passed the vibrator back to her.

 

“Now, you’re going to give me a show; something for me to enjoy whilst I have my breakfast. Let’s see how a horny slut like you loves her vibrator.”

 

Andrea switched the vibrator on to a low level, reached down and opened herself up, and, holding the vibrator point downwards, started stroking herself up and down. I helped myself to some toast and marmalade and sat back to watch the show, making encouraging comments from time to time. As I watched Andrea’s movements became more directed, more focused, the tip of the vibrator centred on her clitoris. Her eyes were getting that far away look and, from time to time, she’d give little gasps of pleasure.

 

“You like doing that, don’t you? You like playing with yourself. I bet a randy tramp like you is at it all the time, aren’t you?”

 

“No, Mistress, only occasionally.”

 

“Don’t lie to me. I know your sort, all prim and proper on the outside but, as soon as you’re alone in your bed, out comes the vibrator and it’s rub, rub, rub, up and down, scratching that horny itch of yours. I bet you want to feel it inside you, I’m not sure it’s big enough to fill a gaping cunt like yours. Go on; shove it in, all the way in.”

 

I knew my taunting had been getting to Andrea by the look on her face, not to mention the glistening juices seeping from her pussy, but I hadn’t realized just how much she’d been turned on. She tilted the vibrator forward and, with one smooth movement slid it deep inside her until the ‘rabbit’ bit was pushed against her clitoris.

 

“That’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.” Andrea’s breath was coming in short gasps.

 

“So what did you want? Tell me.”

 

“Please, Mistress, I wanted my vibrator inside me.”

 

“Where inside you? Be specific.”

 

“In my… In my… In my pussy, Mistress.”

 

“Sluts like you don’t have pussies, they have cunts. Now tell me properly.”

 

“I wanted my vibrator in my… in my… in my CUNT!”

 

“Ok, that’s enough.” I reached across, pushed her hand out of the way, grabbed the vibrator and took it from her. Andrea looked at me with her puppy dog eyes full of tears and frustration. Her lip quivered and she struggled to keep control.

 

“Come on, it’s late and we’ve got some shopping to do. We’ll share a shower, that way I can keep an eye on you. I don’t want you playing with yourself once my back is turned.” I brushed the toast crumbs off the bed, got up and, taking Andrea by the hand, led her to the en-suite.

 

Andrea’s Story

 

I dashed downstairs to make coffee, it was more than a little strange fussing around in the kitchen stark naked but, with the way things were, it added to the growing air of eroticism and was giving me a constant tingle of excitement. As I washed up the dishes from the night before I was aware that I was in front of the uncurtained kitchen window. Who knows whether someone in the flats opposite could see across, whether I was flaunting myself before them. Whilst the percolator bubbled away I grabbed a cup of instant for myself. If I were to play the willing slave then I couldn’t be drinking coffee at the same time as my Mistress. I popped a couple of slices of granary in the toaster at the same time in an attempt to see if I could please her by anticipating her wishes. The coffee finally ready I took the tray upstairs to see what she would do next.

 

I’m not sure what I was expecting, a little light spanking, perhaps, or maybe some bondage games. What I was not prepared for was what she demanded. I admitted to having a vibrator, what woman doesn’t, and in no time she had me kneeling on the bed, my thighs wide open, showing my all, and playing with myself.

 

I guess that, after the previous night’s behaviour, it might sound strange when I say how difficult that was for me. I come from a very conventional family, my parents were strict churchgoers, and, through all my childhood I had been taught that ‘good girls’ don’t flaunt themselves. My mother, a complete prude, had frowned on short skirts and had given me a sound spanking when she found me and Billy from next door, aged six, playing doctors and nurses. Now here I was, having to display myself in the most lewd fashion possible, and masturbate, surely the most private of acts, in front of another person. It would have been much easier if I had been tied up; at least then I could say I was being forced to do it, but the only thing forcing me was the look in Jan’s eyes and my desire to serve.

 

The conflict between my strict upbringing, and the growing lust inside me was a powerful thrill. The deep knowledge that I was being a ‘naughty girl’, the embarrassment of my brazen behaviour and my obvious excitement, not to mention the vibrator working between my thighs was an intoxicating mix. All the while Jan was taunting me in the foulest possible language, language that, under normal conditions would have appalled me, but was just perfect for the shameless way in which I was behaving.

 

Urged on by Jan I slid the vibrator inside me, deep, deep inside me, filling me up. The little contraption on the side fitted perfectly against my clitoris and I was having trouble staying upright. I was torn between the desire to rip it out, to refuse to continue, and my growing desire to climax. Then Jan demanded that I tell her where the vibrator was, and to use the language of the gutter. I never used the ‘c’ word, I hated its vulgarity, and now she was demanding.... I had to… I couldn’t… I had to… I couldn’t…

 

“I wanted my vibrator in my… in my… in my CUNT!” I almost screamed the words as they were forced out of me. But I was so close, so close; I was a slut, a shameless, loose, immoral, slut, a slut with a cunt! A hot throbbing cunt that just had to come…

 

And then she snatched the vibrator away.

 

I could barely contain the emotions that washed within me. I was nearly crying with frustration, of having my orgasm so cruelly snatched away. The look on Jan’s face told me that no amount of begging, no amount of pleading would be of any use so, pulling myself together as best I could, I followed her into the en-suite to shower and get ready.

 

All the time we were in the en-suite I could feel Jan watching me, even when I used the toilet, and this constant scrutiny was reinforcing the feeling of being controlled. It was as if everything I did was being marked, was I pleasing her? Was I doing it right? Jan seemed so comfortable naked in front of me; in comparison I was a bundle of nerves. Eventually, clean and dry, it was time to get dressed and that’s when Jan’s full disapproval came to the fore. I reached for my knickers draw and picked up the first pair that came to hand. Jan snatched them away from me and held them at arms length.

 

“Did I give you permission to wear panties?” she demanded.

 

“Err… No, no you didn’t.” I mumbled, taken aback.

 

“What did you say?” Jan snapped.

 

“I’m sorry, Mistress. No, Mistress, you didn’t give me permission to wear panties.”

 

Jan went to my knickers draw and emptied it, hurling the contents onto to floor.

 

“Your underwear is boring, boring, boring. I’ve known grannies who wear sexier panties than you do, and these bras, honestly! I never want to see you wearing these, or any like these, ever again. Anyway, you won’t be wearing any underwear today; slut slaves like you should be open and accessible. Stay right there, I’m choosing what clothes you’re wearing.” She went over to the wardrobe and flung open the doors.

 

“God. Look at this stuff.” She exclaimed riffling through my clothes. “Do you like looking like a librarian? Haven’t you got anything that’s sexy?”

 

Item after item was taken from my wardrobe, briefly examined and dumped in two piles on the bed, one I would be allowed to keep ‘for now’, and the other to go to Oxfam. Eventually she picked out a loose cotton summer dress.

 

“This will have to do. Put it on and then tidy this pig sty.” Jan gestured with her hand at the piles of clothing on the bed and on the floor. “I won’t be a moment.”

 

Leaving me in a tiz Jan went to her room to get dressed returning five minutes later dressed in her normal weekend attire of jeans, a tee shirt and trainers and carrying a large leather shoulder bag.

 

“That’s better. Now come on, we’re off to Brent Cross to sort you out a new wardrobe. Something a bit more suited to you role.” She took me by the hand and led me out of the house.

 

Despite the appalling service you get from London buses on a Sunday we got to Brent Cross just as the shops opened at twelve. When we entered the main concourse we didn’t head for the shops. Instead Jan led me straight for the ladies toilets and bundled me into a stall.

 

“Take that dress off and give it to me, come on, I haven’t got all day.”  Although Jan kept her voice down her tone was hard and demanding.

 

For a moment or two I looked at her, amazed at what she had asked. “Look, I’m not sure about this, it’s a bit public. What… what are you going to do to me?”

 

“You’ll find out in good time and I’m getting fed up with my orders being questioned. Now, are you going to do as you are told, or do I need to punish you?”

 

Our eyes locked. I’m taller and older than Jan but her resolute stare bored into me. Despite the army of butterflies in my stomach, despite my serious concerns about what she was demanding in this public place, the last shreds of my resistance crumbled and I looked down in shame and started to take off my dress.

 

“Of course, Mistress. I’m sorry Mistress.” I mumbled as I fumbled awkwardly with the zipper. It wasn’t going to be easy in the confined space

 

Once I was naked I looked up to see Jan holding out her hand. I passed her my dress and she bundled it up into a ball and stuffed it in her shoulder bag.

 

“Shoes as well.” I slipped them off and handed them to her. They followed the dress into the bag.

 

“Perfect. Now just you wait here. Oh, and you won’t be needing this either” Without another word Jan scooped up my handbag, opened the door of the stall and slipped out. As quick as I could I closed the door behind her hoping no one had seen me.

 

I sat down on the toilet seat, more than a little scared. Here I was, locked in a stall in the Brent Cross ladies toilets, stark naked, and without a clue what Jan had in store for me. I didn’t even know how long she was going to leave me there or even if she were going to come back. Wild, uncontrolled doubts raced through my mind. Surely she would come back. Of course she would come back. She wouldn’t just leave me like this, would she? Please, Jan, please don’t leave me!

 

The minutes dragged by.

 

Jan’s Story

 

Whilst we were showering I could feel the next part of my plan coming together. Mostly I wanted to encourage, by force if necessary, Andrea to get a whole new wardrobe. I know only too well how important image is, not just to the outside world, but also to one’s self-confidence. If only I could get Andrea out of those middle-aged school maam clothes and into something decent then I’m sure she would blossom. On a far more wicked note I was intrigued by the possibilities of playing Mistress and slave in public. Nothing too overt, heaven knows I didn’t want to get arrested, but something reasonably subtle would rock the foundations of Miss Prim-and-Propper’s world, shake her up and, hopefully, give us both a thrill. Fortunately my recent success with the McMillan contract had earned me a nice bonus that month and I was feeling flush. Thank heavens that Britain has finally struggled into the modern world and Sunday shopping is possible, so it’s was time to hit the Brent Cross mall and see what we could find.

 

Whilst we were showering I kept my distance and a stern eye on Andrea. Normally a shared shower is a time for intimate and deliciously soapy cuddles but I wanted to reinforce my ‘Mistress’ status and I could see that she felt uncomfortable with me staring at her. In particular, when she used the toilet, I stood in front of her with my hands on my hips. Her puppy dog eyes were pleading for some privacy and I could see that it was really getting to her. More and more I was finding that the key to Andrea’s fantasy was to play against her normal, uptight, image. The more I forced this quiet reserved little mouse to behave like a brazen strumpet, the more she got her thrills from being ‘naughty’.

 

As she got dressed I made my first attack on her wardrobe. For Pete’s sake, she was in her thirties, not her seventies, and most of it just had to go. First off was her underwear, God knows where she’d found the set she’d worn the previous night as the rest of her stuff could not have been more frumpy. Anyway, going knickerless was all part of the plan for that afternoon. I know it’s a bit of a cliché but I’d guess that it would be the first time she’d gone without knickers since forever so it would reinforce her submissive role and, on a practical note, it would make things much easier later.

 

I made a similar, if less drastic, cull of her main wardrobe. It wasn’t quite as bad as her knickers draw but it took quite a while to find what I wanted. Whilst I was searching I noticed a schoolgirl outfit tucked away at the back, but that’s not really my scene and it had too many links with her ex. I’d deal with that later.

 

Brent Cross doesn’t open until twelve on Sundays and we were amongst the first to arrive. As soon as we got there I bundled Andrea into the toilets and started on my plan. The look on her face when I ordered her to strip was a picture. For a moment or two I wondered if I had pushed her too far as Andrea had started to protest. However, I knew that, inside, she just needed a little persuasion; I reasserted my ‘Mistress’ role, stared her down, and soon she was wriggling her way out her dress. I took her handbag and shoes as well and stuffed the lot my shoulder bag. Part one of the plan was now complete.

 

The next stop was New Look, a clothes shop which is primarily aimed at the 18 to 25 age range. I took my time sorting through the racks; it wouldn’t hurt to let Andrea stew for a while. The trick was to find just the right clothes to get the effect I wanted. Having made my choice I went on to a shoe shop to find a something suitable to complete the outfit. Again I took my time, smiling inside at the thought of what must be going through Andrea’s mind and what  she would think when she saw what I had bought for her.

 

My shopping completed, I found a piece of paper and a pen in my bag and wrote a short note before returning to the toilets. I slipped into the stall next to the one in which Andrea was imprisoned and, bending down, glanced under the divide. I couldn’t see much but the sight of her bare feet proved that she was still there, not that I expected otherwise! I put the note into the bag containing my purchases, slipped it under the partition, and, without waiting, left.

 

Andrea’s Story

 

Jan seemed to be taking hours. I was cold and frightened. What if there was a fire alarm, or a bomb scare? I sat, huddled up, my hands clamped between my thighs and waited, and waited, and waited.

 

After what seemed like ages I heard someone enter the stall next to me and a shopping bag was pushed under the divide.

 

“Jan?” I called softly but the sound of a door closing again told me that she hadn’t waited. Nervously I reached down and picked up the bag. When I looked inside the first thing I found was a note:-

 

Plaza Café – five minutes

 

was all it said. Under the note I found a skirt, a tee shirt, a pair of shoes and my cotton dress. It was obvious what Jan wanted; I was to get dressed in the new clothes and meet her in the café, but she’d also given me the get out of wearing my original dress. I could play along or not, the decision was mine. I looked at the skirt and measured it against me. To call it mid thigh was being generous and, as it was a ra-ra skirt with a lot of flare it wasn’t going to give me much modesty.  The tee shirt was bright red and had ‘sex kitten’ emblazoned across the front in sparkles. As for the shoes, they were strappy sandals with high heels; heels much higher than I had ever worn before.

 

For a moment or two I thought seriously about bottling out. The dress, my modest, simple dress was right there and, by putting it in the bag Jan had effectively given me permission to wear it, but to do so would be like using the safe word; it would put an end to whatever games Jan had in mind and, if I wore it I would be letting her down. More than that, and this was the clincher, I would be letting myself down. If I wanted to be her willing slave then I couldn’t call the shots; it meant doing the things I didn’t want, not just the things I did. With a sense of resolve overcoming my fears I slipped on the skirt and the tee shirt, stepped into the shoes and, tottering slightly on the high heels, left the stall.

 

As I approached the washbasins I saw myself in the mirror and I couldn’t help a gasp of horror, my new found sense of resolve crumbling rapidly. The tee shirt was so tight, and the material so stretchy, that you could clearly see the outline of my nipples and, as for the skirt, well, it was, in the strict sense of the word, decent, but only just. I looked like a cheap whore, the sort you see on the streets behind Kings Cross station giving ten pound blow jobs to earn money to feed their crack habits. My gasp had made some of the other women in the toilets look round and now I was getting curious scares, most of them far from friendly. Blushing furiously, I washed my hands and, keeping my head bowed, I hurried as fast as I could out onto the concourse.

 

As I looked for the Plaza Café I could not have felt more obvious. I felt as if every person was staring at me contemptuously, every person condemning me. I couldn’t walk fast in the heels, and I didn’t want my skirt to flare up, so I kept my head down and tried to stay as inconspicuous as I could. After what seemed like ages I finally found the café and I had only fifty yards or so to go when I passed a group of youths.

 

“Gor, take a look at the state of that!” one of them jeered, causing laughter all round.

 

“Go on, love, show us your knickers.” Another called out.

 

“Knickers, she’s not wearing any, are you?” From yet another. Had he seen, or was it just part of the jeering?

 

With my face burning with embarrassment I hurried away as fast as I could, their jeers and laughter ringing in my ears. I had never felt so exposed, so open, so naked in public. Thank heavens I hadn’t far to go; the plaza café is open on the concourse and I could see Jan sat at a table. I felt that once I reached her I would be safe, protected. I made my way across and, with a sense of relief at having made it, sat down beside her. For a moment Jan didn’t speak but  gave me a long hard look.

 

“That’s better.” She said at last. “Now you’re properly dressed; now everyone can see what a slut you are, can’t they.”

 

“Please, Mistress.” I replied. “I’m not sure I can go through with this. I feel so… so… naked.”

 

“Stop whining. You’ll just do as you’re told, understand? Now, I’m feeling peckish. I’ll have a latte and a croissant. You can get one for yourself as well, if you want. Off you go.” She reached into her shoulder bag and handed me my handbag.

 

The sense of relief I had felt when I got to Jan was fast evaporating. Sure it would be easier now I wasn’t alone but Jan wasn’t going to let me lurk in the shadows, nor was this going to be over soon. I got up and went over to the counter to order the coffees. The young lad behind the counter couldn’t stop staring at my breasts. Talk about undressing me with his eyes, in this tee shirt he didn’t need to, and the licentious looks he was giving me showed only to clearly what he was thinking. I paid for the coffees and returned to the table.

 

“So, how does it feel?” Jan asked. “Does my little slave like her new slut clothes? I saw you flirting with those boys over there, and, as for the boy at the counter…”

 

“I wasn’t flirting. They were horrible.” I blurted out. “Please, this is really embarrassing. How long are you going to keep me like this?”

 

“As long as it takes. We’ve got quite a bit of shopping to do and you’re going to stay dressed like that until we’re finished. And stop complaining. You know this turns you on, makes you hot and horny. Secretly you’re loving every minute of it, don’t you?”

 

Was I? Was I loving every minute of it? Sure, the over riding emotions were fear, embarrassment and shame, but was there, somewhere deep down inside me, a part of me that was loving the thrill? So much of me wanted to run away and hide, to retreat back into my shell, to return to the respectable, reserved woman I was in ‘normal’ life, but, maybe, a tiny part of me wanted this, wanted to break free of the restrictions I’d imposed upon myself over all the years, to be the brazen strumpet, just this once. And did it make me ‘hot and horny’? Could I admit to myself that I was driven by the thrill, the thrill which tingled in my groin, which kept nagging away, demanding relief? Could I admit that the tart, the slut, the strumpet weren’t just a role I played but part of me, a very real part of me, a part which had been denied for so long, had been locked away beneath the layers of respectability and were only now being allowed to come out. I didn’t know, I felt confused, my mind was spinning, I wanted to run and hide, I wanted to flaunt myself outrageously. I wanted… I just didn’t know what I wanted.

 

“I… I don’t know, Mistress.” I mumbled at last.

 

“Sure you do. Now finish up, it’s time to go shopping.” We drank our coffees and headed off towards the shops.

 

Jan’s Story

 

When Andrea came over to the café I thought for a moment that, perhaps, I’d overdone it. The skirt was very short and the tee shirt left nothing to the imagination. Still, she’d actually put them on, despite the get out I’d given her, and here she was, tottering over towards me. As she approached a bunch of yobs gave her a hard time. I almost went over to help but, in the end, it came to naught and, blushing nervously, she came over to my table.

 

As she approached I was struck, once again, by how attractive she was. The short skirt and high heels, whilst not the smartest of outfits,  made the most of her legs and the tight tee shirt showed off her trim figure, slender without being bony.

 

Poor thing though, she looked really nervous, those yobs had really got to her and, as she sat down, she was trembling all over. For a moment I thought about quitting, giving her a hug for being so brave and letting her change back into her dress but, as I looked her over, I could see, behind the fears, a sense of determination and maybe something else. It was time to keep up the pressure, not time to ease off. I sent her to get the coffees and, as we drank them, continued to tease. When I accused her of getting off on the way she was dressed she suddenly became much more flustered and I could see I had put her into a tail-spin, that I’d really pressed her button. Well, if that was what rocked her boat she was in for a fun time.

 

For the rest of the afternoon we went from shop to shop looking for outfits for Andrea. The tart outfit was for fun, now what we were shopping for was the new, classy look I was determined to put together for Andrea for normal life. Having decimated her wardrobe she needed something new, something better. I wanted three complete outfits, something that would make her look like the woman I knew she could be rather than the dowdy frump she’d had been for so long. She had a great body and I knew how to dress her to get the best of it.

 

Whilst we were shopping I made sure she got plenty of attention. I kept reinforcing just who was in charge and, where discretion allowed, insisted on her calling me ‘Mistress’. Naturally I insisted that she carried all the bags. Every time I felt she was getting too comfortable I’d drop something ‘by accident’ and watching her trying to pick it up without flashing her bare arse to the entire world was priceless. But the best bit was the escalator. From the second floor to the first floor is quite a long drop and as we went down there was no one in front of us. Almost immediately Andrea realised how much she was on display and that she was showing far more than she wanted to the people coming up the other way. She went to cross her arms in front of her, which would have effectively shielded the view with the shopping bags she was carrying, but I caught on to what she was trying to do and, discreetly, held her arms by her side. Mostly, as ever in London, people kept themselves to themselves and either didn’t notice, or pretended not to. One teenage lad however, couldn’t believe his eyes and, with all the grace of the adolescent male, gawped openly and unashamedly.

 

Our last stop was for a whole new set of underwear. As with the rest of her clothes, having condemned her current collection to the waste bin it was only fair that I replace at least some of it. She wouldn’t need quite as much as she’d had, I had plenty of knickerless days planned for her, but she’d still need a fair few bits and pieces and I was determined to make sure it was suitable for the new image I was putting together. Fortunately there was just the place, a lingerie shop specialising in the quality end of the market. The woman who ran the shop was middle aged and snooty, and, as we entered, you could see in her face that she disapproved of Andrea. I think she found it hard to cope with the idea that someone who dressed so cheaply would be spending so much on quality underwear. Together we browsed through the racks and I picked out the pieces I thought were suitable. Apart from a number of lacy, feminine, and, above all, sexy bras and panties, I also bought her a rather fetching basque and a number of sets of hold up stockings. Tights were to go the way of her old knickers and I can’t be doing with suspender belts.

 

Whilst we were browsing I ordered Andrea to fetch something down from a high rail and as her skirt rode up the back of her thighs there was a haughty sniff from behind the counter. Furthermore, as we paid the bill the shop assistant asked, in a very snooty tone

 

“Would Madam like to try some of these on now, it is the normal arrangement, you know.”

 

Laughing, I just gave her the finger as we left.

 

Finally, at four thirty, we were shopped out and it was time to get back.

 

Andrea’s Story

 

We traipsed from shop to shop, Jan always in the lead, dragging me somewhat reluctantly behind her. I thought we’d be shopping for her, but it was outfits for me that she was after. Not kinky stuff, not another tart’s outfit, but proper clothes, clothes for work, clothes to go out in. We ended up with three fabulous outfits, a trouser suit in black, another in navy, and rather fetching knee length A line skirt in grey with a matching jacket. To accompany these she bought me assorted tops and a couple of pairs of shoes, not sensible flats like I would have bought but high heeled court shoes, nothing extreme, but the sort I could wear all day.

 

All the time the joy of clothes shopping with another woman, one who appreciates you and wants you to look your best, was tempered by the knowledge that any moment Jan would try one of her tricks. She never let me forget that I was still in ‘slave’ mode, that she was dressing ‘her property’ and that she expected total obedience. Endlessly she’d make me squat down to pick something up, an awkward and embarrassing action is a micro skirt with no knickers!

 

And then there was the escalator. I don’t think I shall ever forget that. We’d got to the top and there was no one in front of me, no one to shield me. Jan pushed me in front of her so I was completely visible to everyone coming up the other way. I quickly realised that the angle they were looking up at meant that they could see right up my skirt. I tried to move the shopping bags in front of me but Jan grabbed me from behind and pinned my arms to my sides. Most people at least pretended not to notice but one lad, why, oh why are those places always full of young lads, not only noticed but couldn’t stop staring. I might as well have been stood there naked in front of him.

 

The final stop was a lingerie shop full of the most beautiful stuff. All top of the range; expensive laces and silky satins. Jan raided the place as if she’d just won the lottery, picking out names and styles that I’d never have picked for myself, the sort of stuff which you see advertised in magazines like Vogue. The woman who ran the shop made no secret of what she thought of me, though, not quite going as far as ordering us from the shop but definitely making sure we knew we were not welcome. Jan, of course, played on this and forced me into all sorts of embarrassing positions. When she made me reach for an item from a high rail a snort of disgust from behind the counter told me oh so clearly that I’d let the skirt ride up too far and given her a view of my naked bottom. This didn’t stop her taking our, or should I say, Jan’s money; no shopkeeper is going to turn down a three figure purchase, but, as we left, she couldn’t stop herself from making a snide remark. Once again I felt the knives of embarrassment piercing me but Jan just laughed it off and even gave her the finger as we left.

 

Exhausted, footsore and totally shopped out it was time to go home. Jan continued her extravagance and we took a taxi rather than the bus. No sooner had we flopped back in the seat than Jan had snuggled up to me and her hand was on my thigh, heading north. I knew I should have fought her off, tried to protect the last few shreds of modesty left to me, but I was too tired and too exhausted by all the emotions I had just been through so instead I just lay back, closed my eyes and, without even thinking about it, opened my thighs. By now I’d given up caring. I was Jan’s to do with as she wished. Her hand slid under what there was of my skirt and her fingers probed for my pussy. I knew that, were the cab driver to turn round, he would see everything but that was Jan’s choice; I had become her toy, her plaything and it was her decision as to what was appropriate behaviour and what was not. Furthermore it was what I wanted; Jan had been right, flaunting myself had aroused me and her busy fingers felt delicious. Come to think of it we had been playing sexy games, one way or another, almost continuously since I had woken that morning and I still hadn’t had any release. No wonder I wanted it so much.

 

“All hot and horny, aren’t you. You just love it when you’re on display. I bet you want the cabbie to turn round and see you, don’t you?” Jan whispered in my ear.

 

I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t know what I wanted. I was so overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions within me; so scared of exposure, of humiliation, of shame but so turned on by it all, that all I could do was surrender to her will, to do as I was ordered, to follow Jan’s lead, wherever it might take me. Meanwhile Jan’s fingers were working against my clitoris and I was having to try the best I could to keep quiet so as not to attract the attention of the driver.

 

In the end I was saved from further embarrassment by the cab approaching the house. As the driver turned to ask for details of exactly where to drop us off, Jan removed her hand and became all businesslike. The taxi pulled up outside the house, Jan paid him off, and we staggered inside burdened by the bags of shopping. Jan went straight to the front room and flopped down on the sofa.

 

“Ohh, a nice cup of tea, that’s what I need. And then you had better put this lot away. Supper at six tonight. But, before you go, come over here.”

 

I went and stood in front of Jan and she reached up, took the front hem of my skirt, lifted it up and tucked it in the waistband so that my pussy was completely on show. In a strange way I was almost glad she had done so. Although, in the privacy of my own home, there was none of the embarrassment of displaying myself in public, I had got used to the nervous edge of being on display and, somehow wanted it to continue. I was, oddly enough, missing the thrill of constant exposure and having my skirt tucked up like that was a reminder that the games were not over.

 

“That’s better. Now, off you go.” And with that cursory dismissal I went of to do my chores.

 

As I put my new clothes away I was struck, once again, by how classy they were. It was as if they were for some other woman, someone who looked like me but had the style, the confidence, the presence that I knew I lacked. What a difference to the pile Jan had made me put out for Oxfam. And, as for the underwear, the contrast with what Jan had made me throw away, with what was still overflowing from my waste bin, could not have been more dramatic. Nervously, for I knew what Jan would say if she caught me, I tried on one of the pairs of panties. They fitted perfectly, and, as I admired myself in the mirror, I could see how they flattered my hips, accentuated my figure. Was I the sort of woman who wore stuff like this? Until twenty-four hours ago it would have been immaterial, no one would ever have seen them, but now? What did the future hold? But enough of this, I had supper to make, so I slipped them off again, folded them neatly and put them with the others in the draw.

 

Jan’s Story

 

I sat back on the sofa and sorted through my credit card slips. Bonus or not, I had spent far more than I had intended. Oh, well, it had been an interesting afternoon, I’d had a lot of fun and maybe Andrea would be generous to me when the rent became due.

 

I couldn’t relax though; my main concern was what were we to do next. That’s the problem in being the ‘Mistress’; you have to come up with all the ideas. We could, of course, end the day with some spanking games, but that seemed a bit tame after what we had done, and, to be frank, even after my research on the web, I really didn’t know what to do. I’d kind of painted myself into a corner and I needed the grand finale, something special to put the icing on the cake. I was distracted by the sound of Andrea pottering about upstairs, sorting out her new clothes. I couldn’t wait to see how she looked tomorrow, but that was tomorrow, I had to sort something out for tonight.

 

I knew I needed help, some sort of inspiration or guidance, and then it struck me. One year I had got quite involved in the Gay Pride march and during the endless meetings I’d met all sorts of people. I’d got on particularly well with one of the girls, Toni and she’d told me that she was in an S&M relationship. Well, it wasn’t so much that she had told me, but it had become obvious when I’d gone back to her flat for an impromptu supper and I’d met her partner, Nicky. We had been getting on so well that I guess they knew that I wouldn’t be fazed by the idea and they had been quite open in front of me. At the time I’d almost ignored it, after all, it wasn’t my thing, or so I had thought, but now I was learning otherwise and I knew I could get a few tips. I looked through my bag for my Filofax and dug out the phone number.

 

Toni was delighted to hear from me. Yes, of course she still remembered me and yes, she was still with Nicky and naturally they still enjoyed the same Mistress/slave relationship. As I intended with Andrea they weren’t into it 24/7 but they were always willing to play and Toni said that they had nothing planned for that night and would be delighted with the idea of meeting up later. We discussed various options, them coming over here, us going over there and meeting at some point in the middle. When I told her about Andrea’s thing about public humiliation Toni gave a little laugh and suggested we meet at the Pink Kitten. I agreed that it would be perfect and we settled on meeting at eight. Enough time to sort out supper and get there.

 

The Pink Kitten is in a back street down in Soho. Don’t try to find it, you won’t, and even if you do, entry is strictly members and their guests only. It’s run by the sisters, for the sisters, it’s quiet, discretely lit, the booths are private and, as long as you don’t make a scene, no one minds a little hanky-panky. In short, it’s the perfect place for a quiet assignation up town and I had used it often. Toni and Nicky had introduced me to it and signed me up and since then I’d made sure I kept up my membership.

 

With that settled I could finally relax so I turned on the telly and flicked through the channels but Sunday afternoon is not the best of times and I ended up just dozing on the sofa.

 

Just before six Andrea came through to tell me that supper was ready. Bless her, she’d laid the table for one and she waited on me hand and foot. I assumed that she’d sorted something out to make sure she ate as well, but, really, that wasn’t my problem. I could get used to this sort of treatment, having someone else do all the work, and do it so willingly, was a very pleasant change, even without the sexual charge that ran through everything.

 

After supper I left Andrea to do the washing up, telling her to be ready to go out again by seven fifteen, and it was back to the sofa to relax again.

 

Andrea’s Story

 

After I’d put the clothes away I went down to the kitchen which looked like a bomb had hit it. There was still a lot of washing up from last night, as well as from breakfast. Still, I quite enjoy housework, well, not the actual drudgery, but the end result is always satisfying. As I pottered round the kitchen I felt happy, happy that I was doing this for someone, not just as part of the endless chore of staying alive. When I’d kept house for Michael I’d been doing it as the dutiful wife, as part of my ‘natural’ chores and he had never appreciated it. Jan, for all she liked playing the stern Mistress, was quite different; she accepted it as my gift to her, accepted it with grace and gratitude. I looked through the fridge and sorted out a light supper. I had no idea what she had planned, that was part of the excitement, but I didn’t want to over face her.

 

As I laid the table for supper, just the one setting, I’d eat in the kitchen, I felt excited, like a teenager preparing for her first date. I told myself not to be silly, not to let my feelings get out of hand. I really didn’t know how Jan felt about me, or indeed, how I really felt about Jan. Sure we’d had a wild afternoon, and played some crazy games but the serious questions, where were we heading with this, and what did we each want out of it, were yet to be answered. All I knew was that I hadn’t been this happy, this excited in ages.

 

After supper Jan announced that we were going out again. I was rather surprised, I was expecting to be ordered upstairs for a sound spanking, or something similar but I was in no position to argue and I did as I was told. By the time I had hurried through the dishes, wiped down the kitchen surfaces and generally sorted things out it was time to leave. 

 

The tube into town was mercifully quiet and we hardly chatted, just sitting there quietly as the train rattled into town. At Camden a group of young people got on and I worried a bit about being in my tarty clothes but I wasn’t that different from the way some of the girls were dressed. Mind you, I bet they were wearing panties! When we got to Tottenham Court Road Jan announced that we were there and we left the train and made our way out onto Oxford Street. Once again, here in town, my tarty outfit wasn’t quite so conspicuous. I was, maybe, a little on the extreme side, but, unlike Brent Cross, there were plenty of club goers who were similarly dressed and being with Jan meant that, although I got a few leers, I didn’t get accosted.

 

We hadn’t gone far down Oxford Street when Jan led me down an alleyway heading towards Soho Square. We jinked right, and then a left until, turning down yet another alleyway, we stopped at an unmarked door. Jan pressed a buzzer, the door swung open and we went inside. As we entered I could see that it was some sort of club. There was a well lit bar at one end, but that was all that was well lit, the rest was very dark and the tables all seemed to be set back in booths. The other thing that was immediately obvious was that the entire staff and clientele were women. More than that, whereas Jan had shaken my preconceptions that all lesbians wore dungarees, had close-cropped hair, and looked masculine, there were plenty just like that standing around at the bar. As we approached a number of heads turned and I got quite a few strange looks which made me feel a bit uneasy. I kept close to Jan and let her do the talking.

 

“Hi Joyce, have Toni and Nicky got here yet?” Jan asked the barmaid.

 

“Haven’t seen her tonight. Are you expecting her?”

 

“Yeah, but we’re a bit early. This is Andrea, by the way; she’s new to the scene. Pass me the visitors book and I’ll sign her in.”

 

Joyce reached down behind the bar and fetched out a leather bound book.

 

“Here you go, what’s your poison?”

 

“White wine spritzer, make that two.” Jan replied. As Joyce turned to poor the drinks and Jan was busy filling in the visitors book one of the other patrons, one of the more butch ones, came over and unceremoniously grabbed my buttock.

 

“Hi Jan, who’s your friend?” She asked.

 

“Her name’s Andrea, and she’s with me, so hands off.” Jan replied firmly without looking up from the book.

 

“Just asking, just asking.” The woman replied, laughing. Then she turned to me. “Evening, sweetheart. Anytime you want some real loving come and see me.”

 

“And I said ‘hands off’” Jan told her firmly, this time looking up. “Come on, Andrea, that booth over in the corner looks free.”

 

Jan paid for the drinks and we went over to the booth. It was horseshoe shaped and tucked away so that, only by sitting towards the end could we still see back into the body of the bar. Furthermore the level of the background music was set such that, whilst not preventing conversation within the booths, you couldn’t hear much from the rest of the bar. The place was obviously designed with privacy in mind and I was grateful for that.

 

“Who was that at the bar?” I asked nervously as we sat down.

 

“Oh, don’t worry about Sam, she’s harmless really, her bark’s much worse than her bite. In fact she’s really nice when you get to know her.”

 

“And do you know her… well?” I asked, intrigued.

 

“Yes, I’ve been there, in fact most of us have, one way or another. In case you hadn’t gathered this is a meeting place for us; a place where we can be private, and amongst people like us. There’s still a lot of prejudice out there you know. If we’re going to get serious that’s something you’ll have to come to terms with.”

 

We sipped our drinks. Jan’s words echoed in my head. If we’re going to get serious… There, she’d said it, She wasn’t just thinking in terms of a one-night stand. And were we going to get serious? Was this part of a world I was about to enter? I was still pondering this when the door opened and another couple walked in. Like us they headed straight for the bar and, as they ordered the drinks I saw Joyce point in our direction. This was obviously the Toni and Nicky that Jan had been expecting.

 

Toni was a large, thick set, woman, not fat, exactly, but generously built. I would guess that she was, like me, in her thirties. She wore a black trouser suit and an open neck shirt, and, with her short cropped hair, looked quite masculine. Nicky, on the other hand, was petit and feminine. She wore a loose white dress and her hair was long and blonde. Furthermore, as they approached, I could see that Nicky had round her neck not a choker, as I had first thought but a collar in white leather. They came over to our booth, Toni leading, with Nicky following behind, carrying the drinks. Toni plonked herself down unceremoniously next to Jan; Nicky sat down rather more gently next to me.

 

“Jan, good to see you. It's been a while. How's tricks? Still in the PR game?” Toni asked Jan, totally ignoring me.

 

“Yeah, still in PR, but I've moved. I'm living up in North Finchley now. Bit of a trek in the morning but it's Ok.”

 

“And this must be your little pet.” Toni looked me up and down but continued talking to Jan. “Certainly looks like a bit of a slut. What do you call her?”

 

“Call her?” Jan seemed surprised. “What do you mean? She's called Andrea.”

 

“Oh, I find it best if you give your pet a name, something suitable, something to remind them of what they are. Isn't that right, Piglet?”

 

“Yes, Mistress.” Nicky, or perhaps I should say Piglet, replied meekly.

 

“Hmm, no collar either. A collar with a nametag is what you want. Doesn't Piglet look sweet in hers?”

 

“I've got a collar, all ready and waiting.” Jan replied. “There just hasn't been the right moment yet.” Jan replied.

 

“That's Ok, collaring your pet is quite an occasion. You can choose her name at the same time. Have you punished her much?”

 

“Just a spanking yesterday.”

 

“Can I have a look?”

 

“Of course, be my guest.” Toni pushed the table towards the bar so that it opened up a space at the back of the booth and moved so she was well out of sight of the bar.

 

“Stand up girl. Come here.” She ordered.

 

I glanced briefly at Jan and, seeing that I was going to get no help from there, did as I was told. Without any ceremony Toni lifted my skirt and examined my groin. Then she turned me round and examined my backside, her hands probing between my thighs and opening my buttocks.

 

“There's no marks.” She remarked to Jan. “What did you use?”

 

“A paddle.” Jan replied. “That's all there was.”

 

“That explains it. You should try a cane, or even a riding crop; leaves a much more satisfactory mark. Lets them know where you've been. Here, let me show you. Piglet, show Mistress Jan your bottom.”

 

Piglet stood up, turned round, and lifted the back of her dress. I wasn't surprised to see that she wasn't wearing any panties, nor was I particularly surprised at the vivid red lines which criss-crossed her, but I was a little surprised, and intrigued, by a narrow leather strap which ran down between her buttocks.

 

“Right then, girl.” Toni turned her attention back to me. “Sit down here, no, not on your skirt, lift it up so you're sitting directly on the seat. That's it. Now, hands behind your back.”

 

I sat down beside her and, no sooner had I put my hands behind my back than Toni reached into her bag and fetched out a pair off handcuffs. Click, click and I was fastened. Then she arranged my skirt, pulling it up to my waist and tucking it into the waistband much as Jan had done. That done she lifted up my tee shirt to expose my breasts. She pulled my knees apart, a quick smack to my thighs stopping any resistance, and there I was, open and exposed. I knew that this was a private club, I knew that it was dark and discrete, but anyone passing the entry to our booth, anyone glancing in would see me. It was almost as if I were on offer, to be taken and used by anyone who cared to look.

 

“Piglet, you can have a play if you want.” Toni said and, turning back to Jan, they continued chatting, as if I were suddenly forgotten. Piglet slid up next to me, and, with the sweetest of smiles reached out and fondled my breast.

 

Why did I say nothing? Why did I allow myself to be treated this way? Why did I allow this strange woman, a woman to whom I hadn’t even been introduced, to barge in and order me around with no respect for my feelings, my wishes, my anything? And why was I letting Piglet play with me? She’d rapidly progressed from fondling my breast to kissing it and her hands were wandering across my belly, caressing and teasing.

 

Why? Because, somehow, it felt right. All day long I had sacrificed my freedom to Jan, had done her bidding, obeyed her orders, and now, here in this strange club full of strange women, I knew that this was what I wanted. Despite the indignity with which I was being treated, despite this not being the one-on-one spanking session I had envisioned and dreamed of, there was an inner peace in surrendering myself, in letting someone else make all the decisions. Furthermore Piglets teeth teasing gently at my nipple, and her busy fingers, now working at the top of my thighs, felt delicious. All I could do, all I wanted to do, was close my eyes, lie back and enjoy the ride. Whilst most of my attention was taken up by Piglet’s increasingly active ministrations I was also listening with half an ear as Jan told Toni the story of our day, from our session in the bedroom to our trip to Brent Cross. Toni seemed to find the whole thing highly amusing. Vaguely I wondered where this was all heading; was I to be allowed release, here, in this semi public place, or was this teasing, this constant arousal, to continue all night?

 

Jan’s Story

 

I like travelling into town on a Sunday evening. There isn’t the mayhem that you get during the rest of the week; even in the West End it’s reasonably civilised. As we walked to the station I noticed that Jan was beginning to hobble a bit. Those heels must be getting to her, she’d walked quite a way in new shoes, and they hadn’t been particularly expensive ones in the first place. Fortunately there wasn’t much walking left, the train is practically door-to-door and it’s a direct run from North Finchley to Tottenham Court Road. As we sat together on the train Andrea was a bit subdued. I guess I had piled on the new experiences all day and here we were again, off into what was, for her, the unknown; no wonder she was feeling a bit shaken up. I took her hand and squeezed it and she responded by moving closer and leaning against me. I suddenly felt very protective towards her; what had started as a playful seduction of the quiet little mouse now had a very human side. Perhaps I’d been a trifle rough, pushed her too far, too fast, and now we were off again and she was in for even more. Still, give the girl her due, she’d never demurred, never backed down, however reluctant she might be feeling inside. I wondered what she was going to make of the club.

 

Once we arrived we went straight to the bar to sign in Andrea and check whether Toni and Nicky had arrived. There was the usual bunch of predators hanging about and Sam, true to form, made a move on Andrea. I brushed her off easy enough but I could see that it shook up Andrea; it was probably the first time she’d met a bull dyke up close and Sam can be pretty scary unless you know her.

 

We’d only been there for ten minutes or so when Toni and Nicky arrived. Toni was looking pretty butch, but not scarily so, and Nicky was as feminine as ever. They’ve always been chalk and cheese, I guess that’s why they get on so well, opposites attracting and all that. They went to the bar, got their drinks and came straight on over. Toni, as irrepressible as ever, bounded in, immediately took charge, and within minutes had Andrea’s skirt up around her waist. She seemed rather surprised not to find any marks and, when she had Nicky pose in the same way, I could see why. Nicky’s bottom and upper thighs were covered in vivid red stripes. Part of me was horrified, she looked like some of the women I’d met when I worked in the battered wives shelter, but Nicky, or Piglet as I was supposed to call her, was showing the marks with pride, not shame. From Toni’s calm command, and Piglet’s pride in her marks I guessed that I had a lot to learn as a trainee ‘Mistress’.

 

Now that Toni had got the bit between her teeth there was no stopping her. She ordered Andrea to sit, produced some handcuffs from her bag and, in no time at all had Andrea’s skirt up around her waist, her tee shirt up over her breasts and her hands cuffed behind her back. Once Toni had got Andrea arranged to her satisfaction she left her alone, turning back to chat to me leaving Piglet in charge.  Toni asked about what we had been doing and seemed amused by our antics. I tried to follow her lead, to maintain the detached calm, as if it were perfectly normal to be sitting here chatting right next to Andrea, wide open and exposed while Piglet took more and more liberties with her body. Out of the corner of my eye, however, I couldn’t help but keep tabs on what was going on; Andrea seemed to have retreated into a trance, her eyes closed and a neutral, almost peaceful, expression on her face.

 

Suddenly, almost in mid conversation, Toni dropped her voice.

 

“Well,” she asked, “what do you want to do with her?”

 

“I’m not sure.” I answered. “I mean, I’ve been playing with her all day and, somehow, just taking her upstairs and spanking her didn’t seem enough. That’s why I called you, I need the help of an expert.”

 

“Have you let her come yet?”

 

“Not since last night. She got pretty worked up around Brent Cross but, once we got home, there didn’t seem the right occasion.”

 

“That’s Ok, keeping them wound up, but denying them relief is all part of the fun. Sometimes I keep Piglet like that all weekend. She’s gagging for it by Sunday night, she'll do anything just as long as I let her come. But what about Andrea? Shall we let her come now or are you saving it up for later?”

 

“No, now will be fine. In fact, here in the club will fit in well with that public humiliation thing she seems to get off on.” I replied.

 

“Dead right. Leave this one to me.” Toni looked up. “Looks like Piglet’s got her nicely warmed up. I’ll take it from here.”

 

Andrea’s Story

 

I was drifting along in a haze, my mind almost switched off, letting Piglet’s fingers play wherever she wanted, not that I had much choice. On a purely physical level it was bliss, Piglet was obviously no amateur and her lips and fingers were making sweet music. And if I were wide open and exposed in this semi-public place, well, I was deep into the fantasy and that was what a slut like me would do, wasn’t it? Then Toni stopped talking to Jan and turned her attention back to me. She ordered Piglet away and asked Jan to move so they were sitting either side of me, sitting close, hemming me in.

 

“You were enjoying that, weren’t you?” She asked but there was an edge to her voice, she was no longer friendly. I was still in a semi daze and only mumbled something in reply.

 

“What was that? Speak up.” Toni demanded.

 

“Yes, yes, Mistress, I was enjoying that.” I managed.

 

“Hmm… Jan was telling me how you liked playing with yourself, how you enjoyed your vibrator. I bet you wish you had it now.” She continued.

 

“Please, Mistress…” The thought of using a vibrator here was… Was what? Had I lost all sense of dignity? Would I have used one here, out in the open like this? Part of me was revolted but part of me had so surrendered to whatever Jan wanted, and part of me was so turned on, so desperate for relief, that, all in all, I didn’t know what I wanted, what I would do. Anyway, the point was moot, with my hands fastened behind my back and Jan and Toni hemming me in I could hardly move a muscle.

 

“Shame I don’t have one with me. I’ll have to remember next time. Meanwhile this will have to do.” Toni reached over to the table where her bottle of beer stood. She took the bottle, drained it with a quick swig and pushed it against my pussy. Instinctively I tried to close my knees but Toni roughly pulled them apart again.

 

“Come along now, open wide.” A little wiggling and she slid the neck of the bottle inside me. “There, that’s better. Look how easily it slides in, how juicy your cunt is. You love this don’t you?”

 

Did I enjoy it? The bottle was cold and hard but, yes, it felt good. It had quite a long neck and Toni was easing it back and forth. She held it quite near the top to so that each time she pushed it in her hand pushed against my clitoris. It was obscene, it was degrading, it was outrageous but yes, it was good.

 

“Shall I call the girls over, let the see the show, let them all see what a slut you are?” Toni teased. I jerked forward at the idea but she was ready for it and held me back. Would she? Would she really call the others over? In my mind’s eye I could see them, I could imagine their faces, all those ghastly women from the bar, standing round, pointing, laughing, ridiculing me. I’d be the laughing stock of the place, the bad girl, the wanton slag who was stripped in public, who was being fucked by a beer bottle. Toni thrust harder and deeper, in my mind the laughter grew louder, I’d be so ashamed, so embarrassed, but I couldn’t help it, I was tied up, they were making me do it. They were making me… Meanwhile what I couldn’t help was my reaction; I was thrusting back against the bottle urging it in. Oh God, oh God, I couldn’t take any more, but I had to, I needed to; my mind rebelled but my body betrayed me.

 

“AAARRRGmmffff!” I lost all control, my body seemed to explode with sensation, I jerked my hips forward as the bottle was thrust time and time again deep, deep inside me causing wave upon wave upon wave of ecstasy to tear through me and only Jan’s hand clamped across my mouth stopped me from screaming out loud.

 

And then, as I peaked, came the tears, I don’t know why but I cried, I sobbed my heart out and couldn’t stop. Jan put her arms around me and held me tight, gathering me in and making gentle soothing noises. Someone, I guess Toni, undid the handcuffs and, as soon as I was free, I returned Jan’s hugs, my head resting on her chest, still sobbing, still emotionally out of control.

 

Slowly, piece-by-piece, I gathered my senses; my sobbing subsided and I started to get my breath back. Jan, sensing that I was returning to normal, asked tenderly if I were Ok. I couldn’t answer her, I really didn’t know, so I just did what came naturally and lifted my head up and kissed her. Our lips locked, our tongues met, and, entwined together, we shared the most passionate kiss of my life.

 

“Well, if you two love birds are quite ready…” Toni broke the spell and we parted. “I don’t know about you two but I could do with another drink. Nicky, love, do the honours will you?”

 

I noticed that ‘Piglet’ had turned back into ‘Nicky’, it looked like the games were over. They certainly were for me. I don’t think I could have taken any more of anything and I guess that Toni was aware of this and was purposely calming things down again. Jan and I pulled apart, somewhat reluctantly, and I rearranged what there was of my clothes to try and regain some composure. I still felt a little awkward, not about being the slut, it looked like Toni and Nicky were no strangers to that, but about having been so emotionally raw in front of these strangers.

 

Nicky returned with the drinks, Toni pulled the table back into the booth and the four of us settled down to chat. It was as if nothing had happened, just four women enjoying a night out, having a quiet drink together. At first I didn’t talk much but, as I calmed down, I found that Toni and Nicky were really open and friendly and it seemed natural to join in.

 

What wasn’t ‘normal’, but fitted in well with the evening, was the main topic of conversation. Toni and Nicky explained about the practical side of their relationship; about finding boundaries and establishing rules. I could tell that they were really happy with each other and that their games formed part of a deep loving relationship.

 

The bit I found intriguing, and more than a touch scary, was when they explained about playing with other couples. I seemed that they were members of some sort of club, a club that met together to play BDSM games.

 

“It’s about trust, at the end of the day.” Toni explained. “We’re very careful about who we invite; it's all girls, all couples, and it certainly spices things up a bit. Look, you two are very new to all this, and I don’t want to force things on you, but we’re always on the lookout for new playmates and, as I’ve known Jan for ages, I’m sure the others would accept my recommendation. I’m not looking for an answer right now but think about it and talk it over. And, in the mean time, if the two of you want to have a private little party with Nicky and myself, well, give us a call. You’d enjoy that, Nicky, wouldn’t you?”

 

“Ooh, yes please.” Nicky replied. You could see from the sparkle in her eyes that she was turned on by the idea.

 

Jan and I looked at each other. I could see that, like me, she wasn’t sure, but also, like me, she wasn’t saying ‘no’.

 

Toni glanced at her watch and gave a gasp of annoyance.

 

“Good grief! It’s nearly eleven. We’ve got to get back. Work in the morning and all that.” Jan and I agreed, it was late, and we had to be getting back as well. We finished our drinks and left the club, walking as a foursome back to the tube station. Here we parted, Toni and Nicky heading south, Jan and I heading north. Toni came over to me and gave me a big hug.

 

“Thanks. Thanks for an interesting evening.” I said.

 

“My pleasure, and, next time we meet, you owe me an orgasm.” Toni laughed, but then turned serious. “Look, I hope you’re sincere about this. You’re just what Jan needs, but, if you’re just using her to get your kicks… Well, she’s a friend of mine, don’t hurt her.”

 

“I don’t know how I feel, I’m still a bit confused, but, I promise you, I’m not just using her. I wouldn’t do that.” I replied.

 

“That’s good enough for me. Take care of her, take care of yourself and I’ll see you soon.” She gave me a sisterly kiss and we parted, and, with a friendly wave, set off back home.

 

Jan’s Story

 

The train rattled its way back north, taking us home after quite an evening. Andrea was very tired and snuggled up against me. I put my arm around her and held her tight. Toni and Nicky had certainly given us plenty to think about. It seemed like there was this whole world out there which I’d never known about. Was it for us? Was it what we wanted? Well, that was a subject for another day.

 

By the time we got home Andrea was so tired she was leaning against me and I had to practically carry her into the house. As soon as the door closed she kicked of her shoes, turned round and hugged me.

 

“Thank you, thank you, Jan, for a fantastic weekend.”

 

“You’re welcome, and hey, I had fun too, you know.”

 

“Yes, I do know.” Andrea kissed me. “Now, I really, really need to get to bed. You’ve no idea how tired I am. Are you coming?”

 

“With you?” I wasn’t quite sure how the land lay. Was this the brush off or the come on?

 

“Please.” Andrea answered and hand in hand we went upstairs.