"What in the name of fuck's going on?" yelled Sue, scrabbling across the bed in an ungainly search for clothing. She glared at Nadia and my Master with undisguised (and, indeed, undisguisable) ill-temper, but her pride and egotism would not permit her to show any weakness. I almost admired her for that: to be so wrong-footed, caught in such a compromising position, and yet still be able to demonstrate a haughty demeanor, was chutzpah indeed.

"I expect that's what Norman will be asking, when he gets home," replied my Master coolly. I was at sea, completely unable to fathom what was happening. Nadia smiled at me conspiratorially and handed me a dressing gown. I felt more like a pawn than a conspirator, but gratefully accepted the gown and slipped into it.

"That's mine," screeched Sue, making to pull it from me.

"Yes. And your point is?"

The insouciance of my Master's reply punctured, for the first time, the shell of aggressive assurance surrounding Sue. She wilted slightly and it seemed to me some of the aura of power around her dissipated somewhat.

"Will somebody tell me what's going on here?"

"You tell us, Sue. It's your house, your bed, your lover, your cuckolded husband coming home in less than half an hour. You tell us."

"What?" She was still naked and an element of panic was entering her voice. She stooped to pick up a blouse, but Ian, who until now had been a silent observer, slapped it from her hand and pushed her back on to the bed. She stared up at him in amazement and I, too, looked on with incomprehension.

"Are you in on this?" she hissed. Realisation dawned and a vicious mask of hatred descended over her features, instantly transforming her into a snarling wretch. Her eyes burning with contempt, she faced him directly. "You are, aren't you?" Ian blanched at the fury of her response and took a step backwards. "Bastard, bastard, what are you doing to me?"

"What am I doing to you?" he replied. "Typical Sue: find someone, something to blame. Look to yourself, you self-serving bitch. What are you doing to yourself, you mean. What have you brought on yourself? Go on making enemies, my sweet, and sooner or later they hit back at you. Sooner or later, sweet Sue, Nemesis rides in."

"And here she is, Sue, your Nemesis," said Nadia. She, Ian and my Master turned and looked.

At me.

Sue tried once more to assert herself. "I have no idea what this is about. I've had enough." She tried to get up from the bed but once more Ian slapped her down, this time using a fair degree of force, causing her to bounce almost comically on the matress. Sue cursed and swore, but made no further effort to move. My Master stepped forward.

"Yes, Sue, meet your Nemesis. This is Harriet, my slave girl. She is precious to me, my faithful and devoted companion and I love her very much. Yes, love her. That probably comes as a surprise to you, because the concept of love is, frankly, beyond you. Yes, she is my slave, yes she will do whatever I command, and yes, when she misbehaves I punish her severely. But I still love her, and care for her, and will not see her abused.

"What she is not is a piece of meat. She is not a "bitch", or a "cunt" or whatever spiteful terms spew from your detestable mouth. She is not to be ill-treated, she is not to be used and abused by anyone." He bent forward and lowered his voice to a cool, menacing whisper. "Least of all by you."

Tears welled in my eyes as I listened to my Master. Nadia had slipped her hand in mind and squeezed me comfortingly. My Master continued.

"But you did, didn't you? Cheap, contemptible little piece of trash."

"I'm not going to be spoken to like that..."

"I think you'll find you are," my Master fired back. "And you'll shut up and listen. You see, Ian is an old friend of mine who was happy to do me a favour. Especially when I told him it involved you. He has a bit of history with you, you see. Or at least his brother does. Peter? Ring any bells? Fleeced him and dumped him, oh about six years ago, in Manchester?" Sue was looking close to defeat, her face crumpled in fear. She stared noiselessly at my Master. He continued.

"And so when I found out what you'd done to Harriet I decided to teach you a lesson. As I say, Ian was happy to oblige, to chat you up, get you into bed. Not that it was difficult, by all accounts..."

Sue turned to Ian, ignoring my Master's jibe. "You set me up! Cheap, lousy bastard..."

"Ha!" he replied derisively. "Pot and kettle, sweetie."

"Yes, we set you up," continued my Master.

"And just what the hell do you propose to do now?" Sue spat at him.

"Well, Norman will be home soon, we can have a little chat with him about that, see what he wants to do."

"Come off it, if this is some childish little blackmail thing forget it. What the hell's Norman going to say about it? We'll have you in court, darling. We're solicitors remember."

"And you think Norman will support you, do you?"

"'Course he will. What proof have you got? I'll deny it. And even if he did believe you, I slept with a guy, so what? How many marriages are pure and honest?"

"But it wasn't just sleeping with a guy was it?"

"What?"

My Master nodded at me.

"She doesn't count. That's different."

"Yes, she does count. You made that mistake before: that's why you're in this mess. In what way is it different? She was the slave girl you beat viciously and forced to serve you and your lover. In your husband's bed? Don't you think that's just a bit OTT? Don't you think Norman is going to find that a bit gross? He is famously straightlaced, after all..."

Sue face went instantly white and her eyes glazed over as she sought to work out what was happening. My Master was right: a commonplace infidelity with a lover was something Norman could probably overlook, but the sort of scenario painted by my Master, of Mistresses and slaves, beatings and humiliation, was something which he would be unlikely to stomach.

"Proof," she said witheringly. "No proof."

"But we have. While you were downstairs, you see, abusing poor Harriet, Ian was letting himself in and setting things up in here." My Master indicated casually towards the dresser. Walking towards it, he stretched out his hand and picked up a tiny camera half concealed between some pieces of clothing. "Think about it," he said. "Think about what you were getting up to a few minutes ago. It's all on here."

Sue thought. Her face betrayed terror and uncertainty, not common emotions for her and afflicting her all the more powerfully for that. She swallowed nervously, trying to define a strategy to save herself.

"What do you want?"

"It's not what we want that matters," my Master said evenly. He turned towards me. "It's what Harriet wants that counts. You're hers now."