As my power over him increased so did my desire for ever more control. I wanted to dominate every fabric of his being, to be in his every waking thought, to tower over his dreams, to ensure that he could never, never be free from my influence.

I moved into his house that night. When we had arrived at his house that afternoon I had intended staying the night, but as the evening progressed I realised that the task required my full attention. Mr Loverman needed total control, and I intended to ensure that he received it.

Mr Loverman ran my bath and I began to formulate plans. It was late by now, but the out-of-town stores would still be open. I gave him a long list of bathroom items to purchase and ordered him to buy me ten sets of underwear.

"This is important, Mr Loverman. You'll have to get this just right." Which meant, of course, that he wouldn't. Whatever he did, I would ensure that it was wrong. "I'm expecting sexy, to show how much you admire and lust after your Mistress. Too dowdy and I'll take it as a grave insult. But nothing over the top: I'm not some cheap tart and don't expect to be dressed like one. If I find that is how you picture me then woe betide you. And your arse. Do you understand? Sexy, but demure. Decent, but alluring. Naughty, but nice. That sort of thing. Now! Jump to it, little man."

Mr Loverman, in his flasher-style overcoat, fastened tight to cover the little apron which was the only clothing he was permitted, looked ridiculous. His bare ankles poked out of the bottom, pasty white and bony. If a policeman stopped him he would be arrested for sure. I smiled as I wondered how he would begin to explain himself.

"And just one other thing to buy, Mr Loverman," I said, handing him the car keys and kissing his ear while stroking my hand across the front of his coat, feeling the shape of his cage beneath. He groaned again.

"Bring back a nice dog basket. Quite a big one, and a blanket to go with it. And a toy bone as well." I opened the door and, without allowing him to reply, pushed him into the evening air. Fetching another glass of wine I stripped and settled into the bath, allowing the water to slide over my body and luxuriating in its sensuous caress of my skin. I closed my eyes and reflected on my good fortune.

By the time Mr Loverman returned, around an hour later, I was out of the bath, dried and ready for bed. So too, I felt sure, was Mr Loverman: it had been a long day for both of us.

"Show me my lingerie," I sighed wearily, masking the anticipation I felt as I waited for him to reveal his purchases. They were actually rather good, given the limited range of options he would have had at the store. No La Perla or major names, but very sexy stuff nonetheless. There was a particularly attractive black thong with a delightful clematis motif which I couldn't wait to try on, and a wonderful asymmetric g-string in a divine mix of blue and pink which was at once amusing and alluring. Frankly, I was delighted.

"Hmm, I'm not very impressed, Mr Loverman."

He looked downcast.

"Is that all you think of me? This downmarket trash? Is that what you associate me with? I could pick this rubbish up on a market stall. I wouldn't give this to my granny. I'm very disappointed in you, Mr Loverman."

"I'm sorry, Miss," he whined.

"Yes, you will be."

Again, I didn't expand: leave his imagination to fill in the blanks. At this point, his fears would be worse than reality, expectation a sharper weapon than actuality: the prospect of a beating is generally worse than the beating itself.

"Tomorrow, Mr Loverman. I'll see to you tomorrow. I'm too tired now. Kiss me goodnight." I offered my cheek and he pecked me chastely, almost too frightened to touch. I headed for the bedroom - his bedroom - and he looked at me in confusion, not sure whether or not to follow. I knew he was pining to ask the question but daren't.

"No, Mr Loverman, you're not going to sleep with me. That bed is mine now, and only mine. You aren't allowed on it unless I say so. You will never sleep on it again. That is your bed." I pointed to the dog basket he had bought. "Bring it into the bedroom."

I swept into the bedroom imperiously and Mr Loverman followed, dragging his basket. It was about four feet in length, reasonably large for a dog, but not for a human: even curled up, he would have difficulty fitting himself into it. Made of woven branches it had a rustic charm, but as a bed it was going to afford limited comfort. The next night I would give him some cushions to soften the hard wooden edges, I thought. But not tonight.

I pointed to the foot of the bed and Mr Loverman deposited the basket beneath it. He had a glazed expression, and I don't think that, even yet, he had fully understood what was about to happen.

"This is your bed, Mr Loverman. This is where you sleep. Whenever I trail my foot out of the bottom of the bed it is your job to suck my toes. Do you understand?"

He nodded.

I smiled and lowered myself into the bed, sliding between the sheets and delighting in the soft, warm comfort of the mattress and duvet. I looked down at Mr Loverman.

"Where's your bone?" I asked.

"In the living room."

"Well fetch it. All pets should have a toy. You can chew on that until I'm ready for my toe to be sucked."

Mr Loverman departed silently for the living room and returned a moment later with the chew bone in his hand.

"Not like that!" I scolded. "When did you see a pet walk about with its bone in its paw?" He stared at me in horror. "In your mouth, Mr Loverman, in your mouth."

Mr Loverman shook his head in despair, staring disconsolately at the floor, and at his new bed. He placed the bone between his lips, catching it with his teeth, and padded over to the basket, where he curled himself into a ball, whimpered briefly and attempted to get some sleep.