What my advert said was:
SUBMISSIVE WOMAN, 28, single, attractive, seeks Master to serve. No real experience. No pain. No other limits. London/South-East/Anywhere.
Just 20 words. Any more and you have to pay extra. Short, sweet and absolutely truthful.
When I said 'no real experience' I meant it. I'd had these ideas, dreams, fantasies since I was fourteen. About belonging to some man. To someone who would tell me what to do. Who'd let me serve him. Who'd own me. But I'd only ever tried to make it real the once.
With Terry. You never met Terry. He had a good line in chat and he'd seen me in the W.H.Smith's in Oxford Street at lunchtime. I was leafing through the 'adult' books, giving them a surreptitious read-through. He noticed I liked the ones about girls being tied up, being captured by cruel sheikhs and all that. And he managed to start up a line of chat with me.
He seemed very nice. He wore nice black leather jackets. He had money. And he asked me to go along with him to a club night. As his submissive. On his leash. Wearing his collar. I thought: well, what could happen? There would be other people there, security guards. I could always call out for help. And the idea made my pussy drool.
He told me what to wear: a black leather coat he gave me and some black leather boots of my own. Nothing else but I kept the coat firmly buttoned up on the street. He put the collar on me as we were going down the street to the club and put the leash on me when we were waiting in the line outside.
The club was held in an abandoned warehouse near Kings Cross Station. There were people there of all shapes and sizes, all ages and races, all of them in some sort of effort at fetish gear. Once we were inside and away from the cold air of the street he ordered me to unbutton the coat. I was standing there, with my pussy and tits showing, on a leash while people walked around and either stared or pretended not to. My nipples went hard and not just with the cold air on them. My mouth was so dry I couldn't speak.
After hanging around the bar for a while we went to another area where there were tables and these small rooms with locking doors. We sat down at a table and some of his friends came over and talked. Men like him, with women who knelt down by their chairs. Some men with no women at all. They looked at me a lot. I knelt by his chair and waited.
Then he tugged at my collar and I looked up at him.
He said: come on kitten. That was his name for me: kitten.
He lead me to one of the side rooms which had just been vacated by a man and a woman. There was a table there and some chairs.
Get on the table, kitten.
I looked at him. The men he had been chatting to outside were coming in and sitting down on the chairs. Up against the far wall, watching me.
Get on the table, kitten, and spread your legs wide. My friends want to have a look at you.
I think I said something. I think I babbled. And then I saw him taking something from his pocket. A gag.
I ran. Out of the side room and out of the club. I only just remembered to do up my coat as I ran into the street. I ran towards Kings Cross and got into a taxi and went home. I was in the taxi when I realised that I still had the collar on with the leash dangling from it. My hands shook as I took it off. The next day I sent the coat, collar and leash back to him. I never saw him again.
Thing was, I regretted running more than anything I've ever done in my life. I knew that part of me wanted to be in that room and let those men do whatever they wanted. But I couldn't find the courage to stay. I was afraid of being hurt. So I ran.
About a year later, I put the advert in FORUM. I thought, maybe if I found someone I thought I could trust. Maybe if I was in control of the initial contact......
I got a surprising number of replies. Some were horrid: men who wanted to do things to me with whips and branding irons when I'd said 'no pain'. Some wanted me to be their mistress 'and then I could do the same for you' which was just clueless. One or two sounded as if they *might* be all right.....
And one.....
It didn't come via the magazine. It didn't even come by the Royal Mail. It was just waiting there for me on the carpet in the hall one morning. It was in a cream envelope with my name written in elegant copperplate handwriting. No address. Inside it said:
It is my understanding that you are seeking a Master. I have a vacancy for a slave, to serve me sexually and in other ways. I can offer a sheltered life of service and comfort to the right woman. If you are interested you should attend for interview at 23 Warburton Mews W2 on Tuesday 23rd at 1-00 pm precisely.
There was no signature. The 23rd was the next day...... I wanted to know more.
I took a day off work and got my hair done in the morning. I put my best 'go-to-interview' dress and went off to find Warburton Mews. It was one of those backstreets in the West End, full of small houses built for servants in the 19th Century which now cost an arm and a leg for the idle rich to use as their urban pied a terres. 23 was at the far end. I knocked.
A tiny Chinese woman opened the door. She wore some sort of oriental silk thingie. (I've never been good at describing clothes, love.) She looked about thirteen and I didn't know what to say. So it was just as well that she was the one who spoke.
"Miss Freeman? Please come in, you are expected. "
Inside and up a rickety flight of stairs and into the most elegant little sitting room. He's sitting there in one of those high backed leather chairs. And doesn't he look good. And doesn't he know it. He's wearing a grey suit that screams out it's hand made, all cool English elegance. He's.... Well, you've seen him, Becky love. He's forty something, with just a bit of elegant grey at his temples and when he looked at me....
"Please be seated, Miss Freeman. Honey, some tea for my guest."
I sat down, shaking a bit, on the chair that the oriental girl shoved under me. I had been afraid.... I'd be meeting one of Terry's friends. All spots and black leather jackets and longing.... But this man wasn't a wannabe. He was the real thing.
"What exactly is it you do at Klein and Digby?"
He had been reading from the folder on his lap. He looked up when I didn't reply.
"Well?"
"How..." My voice cracked. I took a sip of the tea that the Chinese woman had given me. "How did you know about that? For that matter how did you find out my home address? The magazine isn't supposed to...."
"Magazine?" He seemed genuinely puzzled.
"It's in the report, Master." It was the Chinese girl. "She is currently advertising in FORUM. Page six."
"Ah, yes. Thank you, Honey. I didn't contact you because of your advertisement, Miss Freeman. I have my own means of finding out if women are interested in serving. As it happened I saw you in the audience at the National when you went to see A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC. A delightful evening with Dame Judi at her best and then to see you there with your fantasies and frustrations... I decided then to investigate you. Honey did the actual leg work."
I frowned and drank more of the tea. This made no sense at all.
"That's ridiculous. You can't just look at someone and know their sexual tastes. Not just by looking."
"Most people cannot. I'm not most people."
"Oh, yes! You just look and know do you?" I wasn't being very submissive, I know, but I wanted... I think I wanted to test him. To test myself.
"Something like that." He had picked out a page from the folder and was reading it. "Your advertisement says 'No real experience'. What does that mean?"
I tried to evade the question but he just looked at me and I found myself talking about Terry. He listened gravely and sympathetically.
"You were perhaps wise," was all he said at the end of the story and then he started to ask me all sorts of things about myself, my health, my ambitions, my likes and dislikes and I talked and talked and somehow it changed from me trying to find out if he was a suitable Master, someone I could trust to me trying desperately to convince him that I was a suitable slave. I don't think he used his hocus-pocus on me to get me to feel that way. He says not.
I told him I could leave my job. I told him no-one in my family would worry if I were to go off and take a new one somewhere. I told him whatever he wanted to know. A lot of his questions weren't about sex and yet the whole interview was. It was all about the fact that he had the right, the power to know everything about me.
At the end of half an hour the cup of tea was cold at my side and my voice was hoarse with talking. He gestured to Honey where she had been kneeling quietly in a corner, listening intently and she went and got fresh. After leafing through the folder one last time he put it aside and looked at me.
"I think you may be suitable. There are question marks of course. You can have no real idea of what it means to be owned and controlled the whole time. But I think you might be suitable."
"You haven't even... You've never seen me naked."
"Oh, but I have my dear. And I was very touched by the fact that you wore no underwear to the interview. That was thoughtful. But unnecessary."
I felt myself blush from my ankles up to my cheeks. "How... How could you...."
"Well, now. It could just be that I know a bit about young ladies like yourself and know how you will approach such a meeting. It could just be that."
I looked at him. He was smiling that little half smile of his and Honey, as she poured fresh tea for us, was looking demurely smug too. I decided to try to take control of things again.
"What question marks?" I barked the question out but my voice betrayed me by cracking.
"Mostly to do with your courage. Your commitment, if you will. If you choose this path you will be under my control in ways you cannot yet begin to guess. And at any time you will be able to come to me and say: that's it. No more. Either because you have reached your limits or because this way of life isn't what you expected. I have a desire for stability, for a reliable way of life in my home. I must be certain that you are right for me and I for you. I must test you."
I nodded my head. That made sense. I took a deep breath and said "All right, start your tests."
He smiled and said, "I already have."
I frowned and looked up at him, puzzled. Then I thought again: Looked up? Why am I looking up at him?
I looked down and saw that I was kneeling on the floor before him. Kneeling naked with my legs apart. How had I got there? I had come in. sat down, talked for a while....
And then I remembered. In the middle of talking to him, I had got up and started taking off my clothes. I had folded them neatly and then knelt before him, spreading my knees to display my pussy.
I remembered clearly doing it although a moment before I hadn't been aware of it at all. I felt myself shiver and my hands, resting palm up on my thighs, were shaking. I looked up at him again, with fear and a question in my eyes.
"This is part of what I mean. If you choose to wear my collar, be my slave, you will be controlled as you have never dreamt of being controlled. If I command you will obey. The only command I will never give is the one that takes away your ability to leave. Every day you stay and serve me, you must choose to do so of your own will."
Well, darling, he had proved himself to be a little less than omniscient with that little speech. Because, you see, I had dreamed of just that sort of control. You remember those vampire novels I was so fond of, the ones you thought were such trash? (And they were by and large, but trash I really loved.) The big turn on for me was the idea of my free will being taken away by some Transylvanian Count. 'Loook deeeep in to my eyeees....' That sort of thing. So the idea of him being my Vlad Dracula.... Oooh, let's just say my pussy was drooling little puddles onto the carpet.
So I got cheeky. "What else can you do?" Just asking for trouble, I know.
He didn't say a word. But all of a sudden my nipples came up, so hard and throbbing they hurt. My clittie too. I fell back on the carpet and writhed in front of him. It was.... I can't describe it. As if every part of my body were being licked all over. As if my mouth, my pussy, my arse were all filled with big, hard cocks fucking me like machines. As if every nerve in my body and brain were on fire. I heard myself screaming. When I came back to myself, I knew I had come at least three times in a matter of minutes. My head was resting at his feet.
"Did you like that?"
For an answer, I just kissed his feet. I mean I turned over and kissed his bare flesh above his socks. I could smell the leather of his shoes. The scent of him.
"Do you want more? Do you want a life like that?"
I nodded my head hard. I couldn't speak.
"Then there is one more test to be completed. Go through the door."
And then he was gone. In an instant. I knelt up and the room was empty. Honey was gone too. There was just the door I had come in by and... Another door. Which hadn't been there before.
There I was, starkers, with my pussy juices still wet on my thighs. The cup of tea Honey had refilled for him was still steaming by his chair. I could have got up, dressed and left. Perhaps I should have. But I got up and walked (a bit shakily) through the door.
And I was somewhere I knew.
I was standing in the room at the club again. I was wearing the coat but not the collar. There were the men again, sitting against the far wall.
"Get up on the table kitten."
I span and there He was. He was dressed just as Terry had been in the same black leather jacket. It looked a lot better on him than it did on Terry.
I looked across the room again and there was Terry sitting with the other men. Watching me.
"Get on the table, kitten, and spread your legs wide. My friends want to have a look at you."
And I did. I knew that was his last test, that I trust him the way I never did Terry. I spread my legs wide and sat there looking at the men.
"Play with yourself, little kitten. I want you to show them how much you like it."
Oh, God! Well, I didn't know if I could get myself going like that but I gave it my best and soon, oh my! I was hot and wet and panting and they, the men, Terry included had their pricks out and were wanking themselves as they watched me. Hot eyes on me, love, like I was.... I don't know what, an idol, a goddess.
"On all fours, little kitten. Get your head down and your arse in the air. No, stop playing with yourself. Now, don't complain. Don't speak. I don't want to have to gag you."
Then the door was opening again and it was Honey coming in. She was in the exact same outfit as me, leather coat and she, the lucky little bitch, was allowed to wear his collar. She went around to my upraised arse and began.... Oh, first with her lips and fingers, the lovely little slut and then with a pair of vibrators in and out of my cunt and arse. She left the one in my arse when he told her to get round to my front end and told me to repay the favour she'd done me with my tongue and lips.....
And then he was inside me. Up into my pussy, doggy fashion, thrusting, coaxing.... I turned my head just enough to see the men up against the far wall. They were panting, standing, their pricks hard and purple-red. They were moaning as I was, as Honey was, as he was thrusting deeper, deeper....
I think we all came together. All eight of us. At least within two seconds of each other. The watchers' cum flew across the room and up spattering the ceiling.
When I came down, he turned me over and looked down at me. In his hand was a collar, not a leather thing but a seamless metal circle.
"Do you want this?"
I nodded my head. He reached down and suddenly it was there around my neck. It's been there ever since. He says I can take it off any time I want. I've never wanted to. I think I never will.
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