About thirty minutes, as it turned out.

We had only just relocated indoors, after a bank of cloud had swept before the sun causing a mid-afternoon chill to descend on the garden. As the doorbell rang, insistent, shrill and penetrating, a thrill of dread swept through my stomach, rising in my gullet in acid anticipation and finally settling dully on my bladder in bland desparation. I waited anxiously to hear whether my Master would call for me to answer it. Dressed as I was, with nothing on below the waist, it would have been too humiliating for words. It was with a sense of relief, then, that I heard him walk down the hall and open the front door himself. She's had too much humiliation for one day, my Master must have thought. A sense of gratitude swept through me.

It was Sue and Norman, the solicitors from two doors up. I could hear their braying voices, brash and brimming with confidence to the point of arrogance. I sincerely disliked them and everything they stood for. Hiding behind the living room door, holding my breath and feeling my heart hammer in my chest, I heard them inviting us over for drinks later that evening. Bastards! They've never invited us before: it was clear what this was about. Please Master, I thought, don't do it, please don't do it.

"No, I'm sorry, we won't be able to make it tonight," I heard my Master say. Once more a surge of appreciation flooded through me. I began to relax as my Master continued to chat to the nauseating, self-satisfied couple, promising that we would come over to theirs some time soon.

And then I heard the call. "Harriet," he shouted. Oh no, please, don't do this to me, I thought.

"Harriet, come here please."

I had no option. Swinging open the living room door I peered round and caught sight of Sue and Norman in the door, staring lasciviously into our hallway.

"There you are," my Master said. "Come here a minute. Sue and Norman were just inviting us to go over to theirs tonight. Isn't that nice?"

Self consciously, I eased myself into the hall and faced them, naked below the waist. A flush of embarrassment overtook my face and neck, painting me red with shame. "I've explained we won't be able to make it tonight, but maybe soon."

Sue and Norman were staring at me openly, with expressions comprising part shock, part amusement and part lust. Norman's eyes were fixed on my exposed pussy, while Sue's gaze was roaming up and down my body. I felt so exposed, so helpless, standing as I was, mostly naked in front of this couple; that I didn't like either of them seemed to make it worse somehow.

"That would be nice," I whispered hoarsely. My Master smiled affectionately at me and sent me to the kitchen. Turning, I bared my exposed and still slightly reddened arse to Sue and Norman. I thought I heard them snigger as I headed gratefully back to the sanctuary of the living room. Well, I thought, that was horrendous, but at least it's over now.

As if.

An hour or so later, my Master was in the front garden, cleaning out the car. I observed him from the living room, admiring his body, which was muscular without being over the top in a Schwarzenneger type way. As he bent over to clean out the back seat, I got a good view of his butt, neat and trim and tidy, firm and taut, just the right size. Hmmm, I thought, it's no wonder I'm in his thrall. Just as my reverie was drifting off sweetly in an erotic direction, our next door neighbour Allan, the retired businessman, sidled up to my Master and began to engage him in conversation. It appeared, from my vantage point, to be a typical suburban Sunday afternoon conversation between neighbours, one that was doubtless being replicated hundreds, thousands of times at that very moment in quiet, residential streets from Aberdeen to Plymouth. Except I knew that Allan never spoke to us. So what was he up to?

I found out five minutes later, when our front doorbell rang: his wife, Mary, it had to be. It was a set-up: keep my Master occupied, and then get Mary to rouse me. I would have no option but to answer the door. And so I did.

Summoning up all my courage, I stood behind the door and, forcing a smile on my face, swung it open. "Why, Mary, hello," I said. "What a surprise." In the corner of my eye I could see my Master and Allan watching what was happening. Right, I thought, I'll show you. "Why don't you come in," I said to Mary, smiling brightly. Brazen it out, Harriet, I told myself, brazen it out.

We went through to the living room and I poured Mary a glass of wine from the bottle I had just opened, a beautiful, fragrant, Argentinian Torrontes. Handing it to her, I ushered her into a chair and swept myself onto the settee, swinging my bare legs up and folding my right arm over my midriff. I made absolutely no mention of my nakedness: if Mary wanted to broach it, that was up to her, I decided, but I was going to say nothing about it.

It was a surreal conversation. We wittered on aimlessly for some minutes, ranging from the price of chicken (scandalous) to the state of education (shocking), the rising tide of crime (frightening) and the present Prime Minister (ghastly). I disagreed with virtually everything Mary said but, naked from the waist down, I felt in too vulnerable a state to argue, so contented myself with nodding patiently and smiling at her platitudinous remarks. Slowly, though, inexorably, a strange feeling began to sweep over me. I realised after ten minutes of this nonsense that far from feeling embarrassed or vulnerable, I felt completely in control. This woman was so dense, so insignificant, so bereft of any wit or intelligence that even in my unclad state I felt superior to her. It was as though it was she who was naked before me, her banality laid bare: she who came here to gloat, to ogle, to take her fill of the bizarre happenings next door, but didn't have the courage even to enquire why I was sitting before her naked; she who was clearly far more embarrassed then I was; she who could never hope to understand why I subject myself to my Master. No doubt she would relay this conversation to her friends in hushed tones, hinting at the pity she felt for me. Not at all!

It was a liberating moment. With a dawning realisation, I felt that I understood what my Master was teaching me. Live your life as you see fit; ignore the ratrace; defy conformity; do what your mind tells you is right. My life as my Master's servant was more fulfilling, more liberating than anything Mary and her kin had ever known, or would ever experience. My Master was teaching me freedom through submission. And as I gloated in front of this woman, glorying in my nakedness, I began to understand his teachings, began to realise the depth of his understanding, began to realise what was expected of me.

Staring down Mary, I knew only this: I love my Master.

On to next story: Yet More visitors