Monday morning. Kitty woke with a smile on her lips and a nervous excitement in her belly. Her life, normally so ordered and controlled, had been jolted out of monotony by a man she had yet to meet but who already dominated her waking thoughts and her dark, erotic dreams. She lay quietly for a few moments as her body tingled with excitement and thought back over the last few days and wondered if the hours ahead could possibly live up to her expectations.
Six months earlier, Katherine (never Kathy or Kate) Blackman had made two life-changing decisions. She resigned from her well paid, but desperately boring, city job and the same week dumped her unemployed, desperately boring, boyfriend. The final straw to that relationship was when he declared his impotence was because she overweight, and that her success in actually having a job intimidated him. After their split, Katherine lost ten stone of useless weight almost overnight and felt nothing more than intense relief.
Relishing the freedom of having no ties and complete financial security, Katherine had moved to an isolated cottage an hour’s drive from the city. Situated on a steep hillside with fabulous views, there were no other houses in sight of her cottage, and the nearest small town was a ten-minute drive away. Even the post-box was at the end of the rutted lane. She owned all the surrounding land, so her privacy was complete. She just craved total peace and solitude after twenty years of open-plan offices, over-crowded trains and loud, trendy wine bars. With money in the bank from the sale of the city house, Katherine had planned to do as little as possible for six months or a year before venturing back into the world, completely refreshed by her hiatus. She had no children, and her parents lived abroad, so her contact with her family was limited to a fortnightly email that usually consisted of talk about the weather. Her small circle of friends spoke of their envy at her brave move, and promised to visit regularly, but Katherine talked up the isolation and lack of restaurants and instead said she would catch up with them when she visited the city. She felt strangely protective of her cottage and didn’t want it invaded unless absolutely necessary. Initially she did as planned, which was as little as possible—reading, pottering around the house and simply enjoying the complete absence of
pressure. However, one evening, the outside world burst back into her life and shook her out of her dreamy complacency. Slightly tipsy after a couple of glasses of wine, Katherine had surfed the internet with the vague idea of starting an alternative therapy centre in the stable at the back of the cottage. But instead of homeopathy, flotation tanks and massage she’d chanced across
an ‘alternative lifestyles’ website. It was full of photos and short preview films of women, naked or tightly bound in rope, being whipped, hung upside-down, spanked and tortured in ways that made Katherine shudder in horror. And, if she cared to admit it to herself, sexual arousal as well. After five minutes, she closed the site in shock, but the pictures were already seared into her mind. However, after glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was spying on her (an old, unnecessary habit), Katherine clicked nervously back onto the site a few moments later. The images reappeared, her eyes snapped wide in disbelief from one picture to the next. Her logical brain was appalled and disgusted at the scenes of torture and degradation, but a deeper part of her felt only excitement and desire. Katherine, now completely sober, was suddenly aware of a strong throbbing between her legs. Without stopping to rationalise her body’s reaction to the images, she slipped her hand into her pants, which she discovered were wet from arousal and touched her clitoris. Concentrating on the most explicit photos, she rubbed herself and was overcome by a huge orgasm within seconds. Her pussy spasmed and pulsed, her nipples were hard under her thin T-shirt and she felt as though the top of her head would spin off. Katherine closed her eyes and slumped back into her chair, spent. Once her breath returned to normal, she guiltily bookmarked the site and went to bed where she dreamt that she was one of the abused women on the screen and came again as she slept.
The wet dream jerked Katherine into consciousness at dawn but she stayed lost in her thoughts for hours. Her analytical mind tried to understand her overwhelming, uncontrollable erotic reaction to the screen images. She considered herself to be liberated, she enjoyed casual sex without guilt, and had experimented with threesomes a couple of times in the past, but this was completely different. She remember how she’d once been spanked during a one night stand in her late teens, and discovered it to be unbelievably exciting, without understanding why, even as she had struggled in surprise and indignation. After that episode she had tried to ask another lover to put her over his knee but he was horrified at the idea. She had felt embarrassed and slutty and resolved never to mention it to anyone again. Since then, she had read the occasional magazine article on domination and kinky sex and they had all had the same effect on her—immediate, powerful arousal. At one
level, Katherine knew it was very wrong to want to be humiliated and subservient, but she couldn’t suppress the shuddering excitement that her fantasies provoked. She had never actively considered looking for this type of pornography—she didn’t know it even existed—but now she had both the time and the unstoppable urge to explore.
She got up, powered up the computer and typed ‘S&M’ into a search engine.
Several hours later Katherine came back to the reality of her living room, exhausted, thrilled and with her mind reeling with all she’d seen. She wasn’t a freak after all—there were many, many people out there like her who enjoyed being dominated, tortured, humiliated and treated as a slut and there were just as many people who enjoyed giving that pain and humiliation. There were stories, pictures, films, chat boards and, most exciting of all, contact sites where the ‘slaves’ and ‘dominants’ could advertise for a partner. Her unspoken vow of celibacy forgotten, Katherine impulsively
composed and posted an advert as an experienced slave looking for a ‘master’ to use her as he wished (she hadn’t been exactly sure of what to say so took inspiration from the more extreme adverts—the ones that mentioned ‘hard limits’ and ‘negotiation’ seemed to Katherine to have missed the point). There was a checklist of activities and Katherine had checked ‘yes’ to all of them, although she wasn’t quite sure what some were—sensation play? scarification? dilation?—never mind, she’d find out when she had time, she thought. She was so engrossed in this amazing world, where the acts she’d always through to be perverted and dirty were celebrated and encouraged, that she didn’t stop to think if it was good idea to use her full name or to mention the closest town as her location.
Only moments after her advert was approved, her inbox was deluged with replies from eager ‘masters’. After reading the first three, Katherine had to stop and play with her soaking crotch; it had been wet since she awoke and she could no longer ignore the desire to climax. Normally sated and sleepy after one orgasm, Katherine’s pussy demanded that her fingers stay busy, stroking, pinching, rubbing her clitoris to the peak of pleasure again and again and again. She giggled with excitement as she stopped for a moment to get a towel to sit on. The thrill of living on the edge was delicious.
She kept returning to one simple message from her would-be suitors. It said, ‘You interest me. I want to meet you, and if you please me, I will require you to be my no-limits slave. Do you accept the challenge?’ Katherine looked at the sender’s profile; he said he was 44 years of age to her 39, 6ft tall and 12 stone, short dark hair and blue eyes and described himself as a ‘strict Master, experienced in all aspects of BDSM, looking for a genuine slave.’ He was, according to his profile, single, professional and, conveniently, lived within an hour’s drive of Katherine’s home. There was no
photograph, and the short narrative was very different from the essays some of the other posters had written. It was full of prose about ‘looking after you’ and ‘gentle but firm’. Katherine decided she wanted the real thing, and not someone who would tap her on the bottom and then cuddle her. This master M seemed a good choice. So she mailed back, ‘Yes, master M. I accept the
challenge. I can meet you anytime, although I’m quite busy on Wednesdays and weekends could be difficult.’ This wasn’t true; everyday was fine for her, but Katherine didn’t want to appear too easy. She pressed ‘send’ and hugged herself in childlike excitement.
Up early the next morning after a second night of disturbing, kinky dreams, Katherine almost ran to the computer and went straight to her inbox. Master M had sent her a mail! Her fingers trembled and her heartbeat rocketed as she opened it. ‘My dear katherine, thank you for your message. I have no wish to criticise your former Master(s) but it appears you have not been trained correctly in terms of etiquette. If you wish to continue corresponding with me you will always refer to me in upper case—Master or Sir or You—and to yourself in lower case; ‘i’ rather than ‘I’ and ‘katherine’ rather than
‘Katherine.’ Do you understand? M.’
‘Damn, damn, damn,’ thought Katherine. During her non-stop reading yesterday, she had come to realise this rule, but by then the message had already been sent. She had hoped Master M wouldn’t have noticed or would have overlooked it. She sat down and tried to compose herself before replying. She failed, and had to redraft the message several times before she was able to send it. ‘Yes, Master. i understand and i apologise to You.’ Send. Within minutes a reply dropped into her inbox. ‘Good girl. If you are acceptable to me, there will be changes to the way you address me, and I you, but that can wait for now. Now, I see you are available on Mondays. I will be in your hometown next Monday at 1.30pm and will meet you on Spencer Street, near the cemetery. Please confirm if you
will be free at that time and if you are prepared to follow some simple orders prior to meeting.’ Not wishing to appear too eager, Katherine waited for an hour before replying. ‘Yes, Sir,’ she replied, ‘i am free on Monday and i am prepared to follow your orders.’ Master M replied immediately. ‘I see you have been online for the last hour. In future you will reply to Me promptly if you are able or, if you are
not, as soon as you receive My message. Failure to respond quickly or addressing Me incorrectly again (Your, not your) will result in a punishment.
You are an intelligent woman, katherine. I suggest you use that intelligence wisely.’
Katherine was momentarily bemused by the reference to her intelligence and then groaned out loud. Of course, she’d used her full name and he had done an internet search on her during that hour. In her career, Katherine had been known as a spokesperson for her industry and was widely quoted. It would have been easy for Master M to find out a lot about her. Thinking about this and cursing her foolishness, Katherine reread the mail and noticed the part about punishment. Quickly she replied, ‘Yes, Sir. Thank You, Sir.’
A few minutes later Master M sent through the rules he wanted her to follow; she would be required to dress smartly but provocatively. He suggested high heels, a leather skirt and stockings and a simple white blouse open sufficiently to show the top of her breasts. No panties, no jewellry, understated make-up but with strong red lipstick. She was to reply to confirm if she was able to comply. He also asked a number of personal questions regarding her height, weight, breast size, if she had shaved or trimmed her pubic hair, her own de***********ion of her body shape and if she had long or short hair. He added that it might be a good idea to make her profile invisible until they had met. ‘Okay, nothing too difficult there,’ Katherine thought, although she blushed at the pubic hair question, despite it being asked in a very matter-of-fact manner. She replied, ‘i am able to comply, Master. i am 5’6”, 9 stone, my bra size is 36D, my hair is light brown, nearly straight and shoulder length. i do not shave my pubic hair at the moment but trim it occasionally. i have long slim legs, slender arms and i like my breasts, which are firm and round but i don’t have much of a waist and my tummy isn’t as toned as i would like.’ She added a PS to confirm that she would make her profile invisible, sent the message and then duly changed her settings.
Sitting back, slightly shocked at her own audaciousness, Katherine thought how strange it would be to send such intimate details to a ‘vanilla’ (a word she’d learned which was used to describe someone who wasn’t interested in kinky sex) boyfriend before a first date. This was a whole new world. Master M replied within minutes. ‘Given your breast size, you are permitted to wear a bra. Make it a sexy one. you will remove your pubic hair today and shave daily from now on. The same goes for your legs and armpits, if you don’t already.’ He went on to suggest a brand of shaving foam and moisturiser to ensure a clean finish and minimum discomfort. Katherine was amazed at this level of detail and care, but changed her mind when she read, ‘Any pain you suffer from now on will be deliberate, not random, at My hand and as and when I wish it.’ The message ended that in the three days before they met, she was allowed to go online to check for mails from him but she was not permitted to look at any BDSM or related chat sites. Her concentration was to be on her Master from now on although, as he reminded her, her weekends appeared to be busy anyway. Katherine cursed her lies. She sent a quick, ‘yes, Master,’ wished him a happy weekend and logged off.
More to follow – comments welcome.