I had thought myself safe from her clutches. I had believed my Master was as appalled by her cavalier treatment of me as I, and felt confident he would never force me to endure anything at her hands again. And yet, here I was, despatched by Nadia on his say-so, with an invitation to the cruel woman to punish me for supposed filthy thoughts about her. The notion that I could feel anything for her was laughable, and yet as I stood at her doorstep I could hear the words coming from my mouth.

"I'm a randy little bitch and I've been having filthy dreams about you. Do you think you could punish me for my insolence?" What was I saying? Why was I saying it? Odi et amo, odi et amo.

Sue's evil face broke into a broad grin. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the little slave girl. Come back for some more humiliation, have you? Just can't get enough can you? Well, you're in luck, more so than you could ever know." I had no idea what that meant, but didn't like the sound of it. "Why don't you take those ridiculous clothes off and come in." She turned round and walked into the house. "In that order," she called over her shoulder.

Knowing better than to argue, I quickly shucked my clothes off and entered, closing the door without looking behind me to see if anyone had witnessed my strip show. The moment I did so I felt hideously exposed, standing naked in the vile woman's hallway.

"Come on, come on," she shouted impatiently and I rushed through to the living room. "Well then, still pretty as a picture aren't you? Tits haven't grown any yet, though, I see. You ought to get your "Master" to do something about those. Bit of collagen and you'll start to look like a real woman." My ears burned as I listened to her cruel analysis of my body. Standing in front of her, exposed and vulnerable, listening to her callous jibes, the pain of that previous afternoon came back to me with hollow, harrowing clarity. She always managed to imbue the word "Master" with such haughty disdain that I immediately felt two inches high.

"So tell me, then," she grinned, leaning back on the settee nonchalantly, "what are these dreams you've been having about me? All the details. I need to know what to punish you for. And how much, of course."

This was too much. Not only was I standing naked in front of the woman I hated more than any human alive, I was having to pretend I had had erotic dreams about her. And worse, I was now being made to invent the subject of those dreams and regale her with my supposed fantasies about her. And the final indignity, the most crushingly abject truth of all was that the severity of the subsequent punishment I knew I was going to get would be determined by how base I made those fantasies. I was being made to lie deliberately to a woman I hated in a way which was completely humiliating and which could only result in physical punishment. It was the cruellest manouevre my Master had yet engineered and I couldn't conceive how I had managed to get myself into it. I was caught every which way.

"So?"

Now where did I go? I knew that in all probability I would be forced to enact anything I said before my inevitable punishment. I didn't want to say anything, then, which would lead to me to do something unpalatable. The trouble was, there was nothing I wished to do with this woman.

"Well," I said hoarsely. My mind was blank. Frantically I tried to think of something. Inevitably, the only thing which came to mind was that which I had most recently done. "I think about playing with myself in front of you," I told her. "Having you watch me."

"Hmm," Sue replied, evidently not impressed. "Been there, done that. Not exactly earth-shatteringly dirty is it?" Damn you, I thought. You try it, you bitch, and see how dirty you find it.

"And I think," I continued, desperately racking my mind for something suitable, "I think about licking you, making you come, feeling your juices in my mouth." I looked at the carpet, downcast, aware that I was talking myself into utter degradation.

"Getting more interesting, little slave girl. I must say, though, I'm a bit disappointed by your kinky thinking. I'd have thought you could come up with something more juicy than that. Where's your imagination, girl?"

"Perhaps you could think of something better?" The words slipped out before I had a chance to think about it and I listened in horror as the treacherous phrase slid from my mouth.

"Oh, I think I could," she purred contentedly. "Nice of you to ask, little slave girl." She spread herself out, resting her elbow on the arm of the settee and settling her head on her palm. Her long, bottle-blond hair hung low over her shoulders and she peered triumphantly at me. "And since you do ask, let's get going. I like the idea of you licking me, so get going. But let's start at the bottom, where you deserve. Lick my feet."

I looked down. She was wearing thin blue socks which I made to pull off.

"Not like that, slave girl. I want you flat on your back. Then take my socks off with your teeth."