But, I wondered, how would he view our colonisation of the entire office? How would he react as, one by one, they fell and found themselves, like him, trapped in a sexual web far denser than they had anticipated? He had evinced no emotion during the course of the evening, betrayed no alarm at the extent of our plans. And yet I felt the need to reinforce the vulnerability of his situation. Mr Loverman needed a lesson.

"Come here, Mr Loverman." He bounded over, his pink apron swaying and his little cock slithering into view below the hemline. "Sit!" I commanded. My toy sat on his haunches before me, expectantly. With a smile, I pulled out my new implement of control, a ball-gag, and showed it to him, waving it slowly and ostentatiously before him. His eyes grew in alarm and he was about to speak before he gained control and restricted himself to a gulp. I was quite impressed by that: he would have an extra dog biscuit in the morning as a reward. "Open wide," I said, thrusting the gag towards his mouth. It was a tight fit, and Mr Loverman moaned constantly with discomfort, but eventually I got his jaws wide enough apart to slide the ball behind his teeth and firmly into place, blocking his mouth. I tied it around his head and sat back, admiring my handiwork. He looked obscene, his mouth forced open and filled with the bright red ball, and his expression one of alarm, pain and despondency, all at once.

"Excellent!" I cried. "Next 3;" I felt behind me and pulled out a leather face mask, once more dangling it in front of him, teasing him with the horror of his situation. Maria and Pamela had already left, but Carina watched with amusement and anticipation. I fixed the mask over his eyes, settling it against the bridge of his nose, and quickly tied it into place. Mr Loverman tried to shake his head in dissent but, gagged and blindfolded, he no longer had any satisfactory means of expressing his thoughts. Not that I would have cared anyway. "Now, sit back - on your backside. Yes, that's it. Stretch your legs out. And your hands. Grip your ankles." Although I couldn't see his face, I could sense Mr Loverman's alarm through the tenseness of his muscles as he followed my instructions. His fingers stretched around his ankles arthritically, gripping them tight as though seeking solace through contact with his own body. With leather straps, I tied his wrists to his ankles, pulling them tight to ensure there was no possibility of escape, and finally I had him trussed, helpless and immobile. I pushed him hard and, with no means of supporting himself, he toppled over, cracking his head against the floor. With his gag in place, he could do nothing but moan.

I pulled him into place one more and soothed his skull, rubbing my palm across it gently. "There, there, Mr Loverman. Now, you might be wondering why you're being punished like this?" He made no move. "Are you, Mr Loverman? It's rude not to answer your Mistress." Blind, mute and immobile, he nodded. "That's better. Now the thing is, you're not being punished. This isn't a punishment at all. Do you understand?" He nodded once more. "Good. Well done, little man. No, this isn't a punishment. What this is, Mr Loverman, is a warning." I grabbed his hair and pulled his head back violently, my face close to his, so he could feel my breath, and hissed. "A warning, Mr Loverman. A serious warning. Should you ever feel inclined to say anything at work, to warn anyone about what we're up to. To tell them what we have planned for them." I tugged his hair again. "Understand?" He nodded violently, his fear manifesting itself in the jerkiness of his movements.

"Good. You see, we don't like little tell-tales; people who sneak about and say things they shouldn't. So this isn't a punishment. It's simply a little forewarning. A forewarning of what would happen to you every night for the rest of your life, if I ever hear that you have been saying anything you shouldn't. And you know me, Mr Loverman, I don't promise anything I don't intend to carry out. I'm not joking. One word out of place and you will find yourself in this position every night for the rest of your life. So there you are, sat there like the three wise monkeys. What are they? 'See no evil, speak no evil 3;' There's one missing, isn't there? What could it be? What could it be? Oh yes, of course: 'hear no evil'. That's the other one isn't it, Mr Loverman. 'Hear no evil.' Let's see to that too, shall we?"

I went to the music system and picked up a pair of headphones. Slipping a CD into play, I attached them to Mr Loverman's head, adjusting them so they fitted snugly. His body jolted as though struck by lightning as the deafening fanfare of brass launched the music, and he rocked from side to side in alarm. I pulled the earphones away from him and explained.

"The Ride of the Valkyries," Mr Loverman. "Set to play continuously. All night. Just think, as the night goes on - and it'll be a long one, I assure you - this is how you could spend the rest of your life. Gagged, blindfolded, bound, listening to the most hideous music at full volume. It'd drive you mad in a few days, I expect. So this is your warning, my little pet, my sweet little toy man. Think long and hard. Discretion and silence, it's all I ask. You can do it. I'm sure, by morning, you'll have come to the right conclusion. See you tomorrow, Mr Loverman. Carina and I are going to bed now. We're going to make love, long and beautiful, and fall asleep in each other's arms. Pity you won't be able to see or hear any of it, isn't it?" I ruffled his hair, tweaked his nose, and snapped the earphones into place once more. Turning the CD volume up, I gathered Carina's hand and we wandered through to our bedroom, leaving Mr Loverman to his contemplation.