CHAPTER 1

 

The brunette at the bar crossed and uncrossed her long legs repeatedly, revealing a flash of stocking top below the hem of her short black skirt each time she did so. She was wearing a tight bodice without a blouse and her firm young breasts pressed ardently against its confines, a hint of dark, hard nipple visible through the lacy mesh at each swollen peak. Each time she tossed her long, almost black hair back, the studded leather collar showed proudly against her fragile white neck: a paradoxically defiant symbol of submission.

She looked nervous yet aroused, a timid but curious deer. Although she sat prominently at the bar dressed like the popular image of a prostitute, she had an aura of vulnerability that made most men give her a wide berth. They satisfied themselves with covert glances over their pints. She was obviously a student, in her late teens, and while this wasn't a student pub, the locals were used to the extremes of youthful behaviour and didn't think anything special of her presence there.

Their presumption was largely correct. She had just been to what had been described on the invitation as a 'Kinky Sex' party in a neighbouring hall of residence. Typically, as with all student get-togethers, it had been a distinctly tame affair, no more kinky than a picture postcard from a beach resort. The girls had worn mini skirts with suspender belts, as had many of the boys, but apart from a little bit of dirty dancing, nothing interesting had occurred. As she sipped her gin and tonic at the bar, not unaware of the glances she was getting, she realised that she had been disappointed by it.

Laura knew, or should have known, beforehand that it would be exactly like that but some hidden desire had taken possession of her spirit and overwhelmed her reason. Only this could explain why she had gone to so much effort with her costume. The same urge had led her to sit alone in this bar reputed for its sleaziness, making no attempt to hide her clothing with a coat. She had no desire to go home alone and write the evening off.

As well as the dog collar around her neck, she was wearing another, less public item that hinted at more than an adolescent desire to shock.

It had been an impulse buy and one that she did not regret. Filled with a strong sense of naughtiness she had gone into a sex shop that afternoon. She had been thrilled by the embarrassed reaction of its few nervous customers on seeing such an apparently innocent young girl in there. She had meant only to examine whatever items of lingerie they had in order to find some inspiration. However, once she had seen the black PVC knickers, even though they were ridiculously expensive, she had known she had to have them. The experience of buying them had been deliriously exciting, but the experience of trying on her purchase later in the privacy of her own room had been even more so.

The PVC had a distinctive smell and feel that demanded some form of reverence. On an instinct, she had locked the door and undressed completely on returning home, as though preparing herself for a religious rite. On seeing the item laid out on her bed she knew that she wanted to feel its clinging warmth next to her bare skin while wearing nothing else that might distract her from its touch.

Pulling on the panties and easing them up over her thighs until they encased her firm buttocks had caused her to shiver with delight. As she had allowed the material to snap over her hips, she experienced a rush of pleasure that was almost orgasmic. The material adhered to her curves like a second skin, cleaving her buttocks tightly. It pressed so intimately between her thighs that when she had crouched down before the mirror and splayed her knees apart on a wanton instinct, she had seen the clear outline of her most private parts perfectly moulded by the shiny, black material. Although they covered her sex and buttocks, they left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

The knickers had been an extravagance she couldn't afford but as she crossed and uncrossed her legs at the bar, she was constantly reminded of the fact that she was wearing them. With every movement of her body, the material continued its slow but insistent insinuation into her hidden crevice, pressing as urgently against her sex as the fevered kisses of a passionate lover, opening her up in sexual anticipation as it entered her and held her open. The blissful sensuality of this hidden caress kept her constantly on the edge of an orgasm that she feared would overwhelm her totally when it finally occurred, and the secretive nature of that sustained arousal that no man here could ever guess drove her wild with need for a strong and virile lover.

The door opened and a tall, good looking man entered the bar. He was well dressed, his clothes obviously expensive yet not ostentatiously so. Although he looked too rich and cultured to be a regular, he walked towards the bar with an assurance like that of long familiarity, filling the small, smoky room with his presence like a great actor fills a screen or stage. His eyes met hers and she felt herself blushing and looking away, inexplicably.

"Good evening. What can I get you, sir?" the barman asked promptly. She imagined he was a man who never needed to wait to be served and felt intimidatingly aware of his presence beside her at the bar, torn between a strong desire to stare at him and an embarrassment at being this close to him. Suddenly she felt like a schoolgirl standing too close to a teacher on whom she had a crush.

"Two G&T's," he ordered, pointing at her half empty glass. He was obviously a man used to getting his own way and even if she hadn't wanted to accept a drink off him, she would have been hard pressed to say no.

"Thank you," she mumbled, looking up at him.

Close up, he was even more handsome. If forced to guess, she would hazard he was in his thirties but his face had a timeless appeal that could have belonged to almost any decade of a man's adult life. His eyes were a brilliant grey and extremely expressive.

"Paul," he said simply, offering her his hand.

"Laura," she replied, allowing him to shake her hand, finding his grip light yet firm and proprietorial.

He reached over to touch her collar, allowing his fingers to graze the hollow of her neck lightly in a way that sent a thrill through her. "Do you realise," he asked, his grey eyes staring piercingly into hers, "that this signifies something very important for some people?" His tone was strict, almost chiding, like a parent rebuking a small child for putting on the airs of an adult. She felt small and foolish under his questioning glare.

"Sort of," she blushed, aware of how stupid that made her sound.

"Good." He sipped his drink and she relaxed slightly, feeling as if she had just passed an important test. "What does it mean to you?"

Her embarrassment deepened and she felt her cheeks glowing red. "It's sexual," she mumbled finally, allowing her hair to fall over her face as she stared at the bar top, trying to avoid his piercing gaze yet aware of it on her, seeing right through her. She felt naked before him. It was impossible to refuse to answer or to lie. His silence goaded her into continuing and her blush deepened. "It signifies submission, obedience, the mastery of the other's animal nature ..."

"Don't intellectualise," he snapped. He took her chin calmly but firmly between his slim fingertips, raising her face until their eyes locked, his regard almost hypnotic in its intensity. "Why are you wearing it?"

She tried to look away but his grip held her and the look in his eyes held her gaze in fascination. She felt like a rabbit watching the approaching headlights of a car. "Because it excites me," she whispered, feeling her arousal deepen as she confessed these words to the masterful stranger. He continued to stare, urging her silently by the power of his will alone to confess thoughts that until she put them into words she was barely conscious of herself. "Because I want to be mastered by someone."

He let go of her chin and let her drop her gaze to the bar surface. Her cheeks were crimson but she felt the blood rushing elsewhere too. She was almost faint with excitement. Her eyes drifted to the bulge of his crotch and she noticed, with delight, that in spite of his extreme calm and self-possession he too was aroused. Instinctively she knew that this was a man who could answer her most secret needs.

"I have something I would like to show you," Paul said. "Finish your drink and come with me."

Things were moving like in a dream. Without hesitating to think of the danger, she followed him obediently out of the bar and climbed into the cab he flagged down, instantly acquiescing when he told her to take the fold-down seat opposite him so her back was to the driver. He told the driver an address and they were off.

"Are those stockings or suspenders?" he asked in the kind of uninterested but polite tone she imagined he would ask about the weather.

"Hold ups," she replied.

"Show me."

She began to raise her skirt timidly and he interrupted her with an irritated gesture, splaying his hands as an example. Understanding his silent command she began to open her legs wide, aware that as her thighs parted and the skirt rode up he could see everything; first the soft, white flesh of her inner thighs above the tight stocking tops then the gleaming black of her skin-tight PVC knickers. They had ridden so far up her by now that they must leave nothing to the imagination.

She held the pose for what felt like hours, deeply humiliated by this intimate display yet deeply aroused by it at the same time. She could not believe that she was doing this. She was a sensible girl, a good girl, the apple of her father's eye. Everything in her upbringing rebelled against this but still she obeyed. She was in awe of this stranger. He had the charm of the devil himself.

"I'm impressed," he said finally, a complex smile playing on his face. "I would never have guessed."

She began to close her thighs but stopped on a gesture from him and held herself open as he desired, aware that anyone outside the car would be able to see what she was doing. The public nature of her display thrilled and humiliated her even further.

He contemplated her carefully. "Now I'm even more sure that you're going to like what I'm about to show you, Laura. I'm going to give you a little test in a while and if you pass it to my satisfaction then I'm going to make you my student. I have the impression that you're eager to learn."

"Yes, please," she bleated, aware that she sounded like a little girl being promised a treat as she did so. Then on a sudden whim, she added "Sir," and his cruel smile of pleasure made her feel that she had done the right thing.

He gestured to her to keep her legs splayed and began to make polite conversation with the cab driver, treating her as if she wasn't there.

Rather than cool her ardour, his ignoring her while she displayed herself so excited her even further. It took all her self control not to caress herself between the legs there and then.

As the cab slowed to stop, Paul reached into his jacket pocket and removed a dog chain with a clip on the end. She looked at it with horrified fascination then looked at his face to gauge whether he was serious or not. There was no trace of a smile.

Wrapping one end of the chain firmly around his hand, he touched the corresponding loop on her collar with the clip. Then he slid the cold metal slowly down the hot skin of her neck and left it cradled in the hollow between her breasts. "This is the first test. If you fail, you can stay in the taxi and it will take you wherever you want to go. Now choose."

Aware that she was possibly making the most foolish decision of her life but utterly in awe of his commanding presence, Laura took the clip from its resting place and attached it to her collar. Then she trembled, aware of what she had done and bowed her head in shame.

Ignoring her reaction, Paul paid the driver and tipped him. He climbed out of the cab and strode purposefully towards the door of his flat, dragging her behind him like a dog.