Jasmine spent most of her Saturdays in bondage.

The situation had developed, as these things tend to do, mostly by accident. Despite her voluptuous body and sultry good looks, she didn't have many boy friends. Possibly it was her slightly acidic tongue, possibly her self-centredness, which led most men to prefer simply to admire her from a distance. Not that she was bothered about it: they could suit themselves.

Andrew was one of the few who would prefer to be a lot closer to her, but it was strictly a one way feeling: after all, he was a decade older than her, and not interesting as far as she was concerned. Still, since they both worked in the same office, they saw plenty of each other. One day as they were discussing pop music (it was better than working!) she volunteered the fact that Madonna's "Hanky Panky" was her favourite record.

He regarded her shrewdly. "I bet you'd just love to be tied up with that cute bottom of yours stuck in the air, waiting to be spanked."

Jasmine was used to his sexist compliments, but this one set her thinking. To her surprise, she found herself trying to visualise the scene and feeling a warm glow of excitement as she did. He noted her thoughtfulness (having made the comment quite deliberately to gauge her reaction) and carefully pursued the theme, until she found herself so interested that she agreed to see him one Saturday afternoon at his bachelor flat to have a go.

Well, why not? She wasn't over-burdened in her spare time (frequently bored would be a more accurate description) and she was genuinely intrigued. Not wishing to make an exhibitionist of herself (for him, at any rate), she had worn a fairly solid one-piece swimsuit and had spent the afternoon roped up in a variety of positions, tolerating frequent slaps on her largely covered buttocks and the rather more exposed backs of her thighs. Excitement and exhilaration had coursed through her all through her, and she had come close at times to orgasm, though not quite actually making it. Certainly she had willingly agreed to a repeat performance the next week, after which it became a regular date in her otherwise lacklustre diary.

After a while he had obtained via a mail order catalogue, some chains, along with wrist and ankle cuffs, which had spiced things up a bit.

But after several months, the sessions had become rather boring. Jasmine had told him so after the last couple, and he had said he would have something new ready for today. She wasn't hopeful that it would make sufficient difference, so she knocked on his door, and announced that this was likely to be the last session she would do.

He said hello and invited her in. She nodded indifferently and stepped inside, and they went into the lounge. Normally she would bring her swimsuit and go and change into it, but today he had told her not to bring it. He needn't think that she was going to be worked on in the buff! However, he had asked her to come in jeans and t-shirt, and also bring an alternative outfit with a medium length skirt. She was wearing the former, and carrying the latter in a bag.

Once inside, he regarded her for a moment, and then spoke.

"Our agreement is that you obey all commands during the session."

Again Jasmine gave an indifferent nod. It was quite correct, although of course he'd never pushed that too far; it was equally true that she could withdraw at any time.

"Respond verbally, please: that's an order." He disliked her silent replies, although he usually put up with them.

"Yes," she said simply.