Chapter 1

It was always the same. Sarah lay there alone in the dark, the covers pushed down to her knees. Her little nightshirt was scrunched up above her pretty, full breasts. Her eyes were tightly closed as her fingers rubbed and swirled feverishly between her open slender thighs. The scene playing in her mind was one she had imagined so often that it came without any effort. It was as if she were watching a silent movie of her secret fantasy. In this little story, she was invariably tied down, gagged, and was being whipped and tormented by a mysterious, unidentified man. Sarah would watch the scene in her head until her own heat rose to a fever pitch. Then she would allow the second act to unfold, as her "Master"-for that, of course was what he was-gently released her from her bonds and then claimed her passionately with his cock. She would pretend they were reaching a simultaneous and powerful release together as she rocked herself to her own orgasm. Always, the instant she recovered herself, she would pull her nightshirt down, clamp her legs tightly, and fall off to sleep, ashamed and vaguely unsatisfied.

At twenty-seven, Sarah was still single. No one man had ever been able to capture her heart. Considered beautiful, she had learned to use that beauty to get what she wanted. Her dark, glossy hair was a striking contrast to her big blue eyes and fair complexion. Her breasts were round and full, capped by dark pink nipples. Her waist was long and slender, flaring gently into still-somewhat-girlish hips. Sarah's legs never failed to attract attention; they were slender, shapely, and long. Even her feet were lovely, with perfectly formed toes and delicate ankles that were so admired in Victorian times.

In truth, Sarah was something of a coquette, using her charms to get her way with the various young men of her acquaintance. She had no serious lover; there was something about her that didn't allow one to get too close. She always seemed to hold something back. She had a secret that she revealed rarely, even to herself.

Sarah's most private dreams were filled with perfumed women in silks and chains, used and adored by their Masters. These women lived to please and worship their strong, dominating men. Constantly naked, or nearly so, they were ever at the beck and call of their owners. If they dared to displease, they would be beaten and tortured without mercy. But ultimately they were adored and cherished as the love slaves they were.

Sarah loved this fantasy, and had endlessly embellished it over the years, as she drifted off to sleep, her fingers caressing her pussy. But in the light of day, Sarah could not reconcile these fantasies with what she perceived was proper behavior for a modern woman. How could a strong, capable, independent woman have these denigrating little fantasies of submission and loss of control?

Because Sarah felt that her secret fantasies were wrong, she would try desperately to deny her feelings. The hidden stash of "dirty" magazines she would buy here and there when feeling very brave would end up in the garbage eventually. Angry at herself for having what she considered antifeminist sentiments, Sarah would promise herself to reform. But invariably, her dreams would sneak back into her psyche, leading her back to the secret stores where she bought the little books and glossy magazines, her face ablaze but her cunt on fire.

You would never know that Sarah was a secret submissive. Her behavior with her boyfriends reflected the attitude she wished to present to the world. Hence, Sarah called the shots; Sarah often made the first move. She seemed sexually sure of herself and even a little dominating. The facade was so convincing that Sarah could even fool herself-for a while.

One wan, fall day Sarah was having lunch with Beth, a new friend she had met at exercise class. They were sitting at a small table in a crowded café in Manhattan . Over quiche and fresh fruit, Beth was telling Sarah about her present lover. Sipping her white wine, Beth animatedly continued her description of the man in question. Sarah was only half-listening, really, as she thought about the things she needed to pick up at the store that evening.

But then Beth said something that made Sarah catch her breath in surprise.

"And then," Beth continued her narrative, lowering her voice slightly, "he pulled out the handcuffs and told me to kneel in front of him and hold out my wrists."

"What?" Sarah was certain she must have misunderstood. Her astonishment must have been reflected on her face, because Beth hurried to respond.

"Oh, it's all in fun, silly! Ken likes to tie me up and tease me to a frenzy before he fucks me." Then, as if she hadn't just stepped on Sarah's closest-kept secret dreams, Beth continued to describe a mild, but fun, bondage scene executed by her new beau. As she paused to take another sip of her wine, she looked at Sarah and stopped.

"Well, what has gotten into you? You look positively sick!"

Sarah blushed and raised her own glass to hide her confusion. At last she found her tongue and managed to stammer, "I-I-I, that is, it's just that, I mean, you really do all those things?"

"Well sure, silly. It's fun! It doesn't hurt anybody. We both love it. We're just playing." Beth laughed as she watched Sarah try to hide her obvious discomfort. "I'll change the subject if it makes you so uncomfortable."

"Oh, no! It's just that I'm not used to anyone actually, that is-you know, I never met anyone who, well-" she stammered to an uncertain halt, feeling the flame of her own embarrassment in her face.

"What, honey? You can tell me." Beth was becoming a little concerned at Sarah's strong reaction. She leaned forward and smiled sweetly at her friend. When Sarah still didn't speak, Beth said, "Listen, this isn't the Dark Ages. Women are allowed to express themselves any way they like now. I just have fun with this; it isn't my life or anything. But I really didn't mean to upset you, so let's just change the subject."

"No, please! It's not that." Just then the waiter stepped forward to fill their water glasses. Sarah jumped slightly, wondering suddenly how much he had overheard. Once he was well out of earshot, Sarah took a large drink of her wine. Setting the glass down carefully, she looked hard at it, avoiding Beth's eyes.

Finally she spoke. "All my life," she said, so quietly that Beth had to lean forward to hear, "ever since I can remember having sexual feelings, I have dreamed of doing the things you've just described. I've never told anyone this before. God, I can't believe I'm even telling you! I've hardly dared to admit it to myself, you see. I could never reconcile my desire to be, um-" She hesitated, blushing.

"Oh, Sarah, you can tell me. You already know I like this stuff. Go ahead, I want to know." Beth pressed Sarah's hand reassuringly and looked so earnest that Sarah felt she could trust her.

She plunged forward. "Well, you see, I have always dreamed of being a-um-a sex slave." When she actually said it out loud for the first time, it sounded so silly that they both burst into laughter. Once they settled down, Sarah's smile fell away and Beth could see she had more to say.

"I want to submit. I want to be owned. I want to be used as someone's property. I want to know what it feels like to be bound and whipped." Sarah sputtered to a halt, blushing furiously. She wished at that moment she had never dared to speak. But it was too late. The deed was done. She waited for Beth to run in horror from the table. But instead, Beth was calmly drinking her wine, seemingly unconcerned with the darkest secrets of Sarah's soul.

In fact, she seemed amused. "Why, Sarah, you little devil! I never dreamed you were into the scene! Where have you been hiding? I never see you at any of the clubs or anything."

"Clubs? What are you talking about? And what do you mean by 'scene'?"

"Scene-you know. The SM sex scene. The bondage play party scene. All that fun stuff! Ken took me to a great club the other night. It was wild!" As Beth prattled on, Sarah just stared at her, her mouth falling farther and farther open in disbelief.

"What is it? Do you mean to tell me you are serious about this just being a fantasy? That you've never done anything for real? Oh, you poor baby! We have to fix that, Little Miss Innocent." Leaning forward conspiratorially, Beth continued, "Say, I've got an idea! Why don't you come with me to the Seven Gables Dungeon this weekend? Maybe you'll get lucky and meet the man of your dreams."

"The Seven Gables Dungeon? What in the world is that?"

"Girl, where have you been for the past ten years? It is the premiere kink SM club in New York City . You'll get to see all the excitement your virgin eyes can handle. You'll see naked guys in chains getting whipped and submissive women bound in leather, strapped to walls getting their little butts reddened with a paddle. It's all just a big game, but it is something to see, I can tell you."

Sarah was astonished. She sat there, mute, in awe of what she had just heard. Chains, whipped, submissive, strapped, paddle...the words were spinning in her head. All her dirty little dreams were being bandied about so casually by this woman at her table. This club sounded like a secret Garden of Eden.

Even in the midst of these wild revelations Sarah managed to ask that all-important question, "What do I wear?"

Beth laughed, glad to see her friend was snapping out of whatever weird place she had been in, and said, "Black. Whatever you want, as long as it's black."

Saturday arrived at last. Sarah could hardly contain her excitement. Earlier in the week, she had bought a new dress: black lace interwoven with Lycra, so that it clung to her figure as if it were painted onto her lithe curves by the loving hand of a artist. The skirt flared just above the knees, swirling prettily when she walked on her high black heels. Dressing, she decided to skip a bra, since the fabric of her dress held her breasts nicely in place. Then, she pulled on the sheer black stockings she had purchased along with the dress and attached them to her black silk garter belt. They hugged her perfect legs, drawing the eye up from her slender ankles, past her rounded calves to her firm thighs. The contrast of black against her fair skin was striking. Ignoring her own beauty, Sarah dropped her dress down over her garters and pulled on a pair of black lace panties.

Meticulously, Sarah applied her makeup. Examining herself critically in the mirror, she decided that a pair of dangling rhinestone earrings would make a simple, yet elegant statement. They sparkled against her dark, curly hair. Sarah was ready to break a few hearts.

Gliding into the small living room of her two-bedroom apartment, Sarah flopped down on the couch, sighing loudly as she realized it was only 7:00 . She wasn't due to meet Beth until 10:00 that evening. She flipped through the pages of the novel she was reading, and then watched TV for a while. Several times she went to her full-length mirror in her bedroom, examining herself critically; striking poses. When she thought about where she was going tonight she felt a gripping in her stomach. An S&M club! God, did she really want to do this?

Yes. More than anything. Finally, the appointed hour arrived. Sarah grabbed her coat and dashed out of her apartment to meet her friend at the subway station. Beth was already there, waving at her.

"There you are!" Beth called. "I was afraid maybe you'd chicken out and not show. Let me see what you're wearing." While Sarah unbuttoned her coat, Beth unzipped her jacket and flashed her outfit at Sarah. She was also wearing a little black dress, though hers was of leather. Her high black boots rose to the thigh and drew one's attention to the tops of her stockings, which were showing below her micro-mini. Sarah found the look rather tacky, but of course refrained from saying so.

When the two women got off the train, they walked down a block and turned down an alley. Sarah had no idea there was even a club located in what seemed to be a warehouse district. But sure enough, they came eventually to a small sign painted in red letters against a black background. It said simply: Seven Gables.

A lone individual of indeterminate gender, with close-cropped bleached blond hair, dark glasses, and baggy fatigues, sat perched on a barstool outside the single metal door. Beth and Sarah were gestured down a set of steep concrete stairs to the basement door. After paying a cover charge, they entered a dark, smoky room, with brick walls and a concrete floor. The walls were lined with various instruments of pleasure and torture - a St. Andrew's Cross, hooks and chains, some whipping chairs.

Sarah stopped, unable to stop the little gasp as she turned and saw a seminude young woman hooked to the wall by her wrists and ankles. She was dressed in a tight-fitting corset, black stockings, and high heels. Her ass was bare. The woman's face was pressed against the black wall. Her profile was visible. The back of her spread-eagled body was offered up to the small crowd gathered around her. They were watching a man who was whipping her with a long black riding crop.

Sarah moved closer, hardly daring to breathe. She could hear the loud smacking sound as the leather kissed the unknown woman's tender, naked flesh. Sarah saw that her face looked blissful. Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted. As the man continued to whip the bound woman, she seemed to arch up to meet the strokes - begging silently for more. The crop fell with an especially loud smack upon her flesh. The woman jerked and flinched, but remained silent. Sarah felt her own heart pounding in excitement and disbelief at the scene before her. As the man continued to steadily whip the young woman, she felt her own face flush with sympathy - and with yearning.

Beth seemed completely unaware of what Sarah was experiencing. Indifferent to the scene before her, she was looking around the room, scanning it for friends. Seeing a little group of people she knew, she grabbed Sarah's arm and said, "Come on, I'll introduce you." Reluctantly, Sarah pulled herself away from the crowd around the bound woman. Taking a deep breath, she turned and surveyed the place that might hold the key to her fulfillment. There were lots of people, even for this relatively early hour. As Beth had promised, most were in black.

There was a man in black leather pants, vest and boots, with chains and whips hanging from his belt, like some sort of sadistic repairman. There was a woman clad in a latex bodysuit, with shiny black heels so high that her feet were bent like a Barbie doll's. And skin. There was lots of skin. Breasts were exposed, nipples were clamped, a naked man was being led by some sort of leash tied around his balls. Sarah looked away, blushing and shocked.

But then she dared to take another peek. As if reading her mind, Beth said, "It's all right. Look all you want. No one minds. Actually, they expect you to look. That is why they are here. To see and be seen. Isn't this something? It's all for show, but what a show!"

Sarah didn't answer. She was still in awe of all she saw before her. They approached Beth's friends, who introduced themselves. The group continued to talk and laugh among themselves. Sarah felt shy around them. She drifted off as soon as it seemed polite. She looked around her at the crowd. Several men were milling about, looking slightly lost and , Sarah thought, rather sad

Then Sarah noticed a stocky little man in a corner, sitting in a chair, with his pants around his ankles. He was masturbating furiously, presumably to the scene nearby. There, in his line of vision, a middle-aged woman was being whipped and teased by a rather bored-looking elderly man. Periodically, she would call out, "No, stop. Please, Master," in a monotone. The man would say, "Shut up, bitch!" or some other rude admonition, and continue the beating. The effect was like some staged piece from a bad German cabaret.

It was too much for Sarah. The fizz of excitement had turned to confusion tinged with disgust. She turned away. With something close to panic, she pushed through the crowd. This bizarre place may have held the stuff of her dreams, but not at all in the way she had imagined them to be. There was no romance. It didn't even seem real. She would find Beth and tell her it was all a mistake; she didn't want to be here.

Just then she found her path blocked by a young man of medium height with a sallow complexion and sharp features. There was a certain pinched quality to his face that suggested someone who was perpetually angry.

"Excuse me," Sarah mumbled, trying desperately to get by.

"Well, hello there," the young man said in a nasal voice, grinning as he spoke. He leaned forward and took Sarah's arm. "Where have you been all my life? I've never seen you here before."

Here at least, Sarah was on familiar ground. Somehow this annoying but 'normal' attempt at a pickup helped Sarah recover her self-control. The panic eased away. Appraising him coolly, she extricated herself from his grip and stood back. She knew how to deal with this sort of fellow. "Sorry, I'm here with someone."

"Well, is he your Master? Because if not, I can show you a real good time, baby. How about coming over to my place, and we can get it on. I'll whip that gorgeous ass till you beg me to stop. That's what you need, isn't it? I can see it in your face. Come on, baby." As he spoke, he pressed forward again. Sarah could smell his sour breath.

Disgusted and slightly afraid, she moved backward and away from him. He continued, aware that he was losing her.

"Hey, what? I'm not good enough for you, is that it? Huh, you stuck-up bitch? You sluts are all alike, dressing up like that to tease us guys and then holding out. Who do you think you are-"

He was cut off suddenly by a tall man with dark hair and a beard. "You heard the woman, Mack. She isn't interested. Take it down the block. Get lost." As he spoke, he tightened his grip on the younger man's shoulder and propelled him into the crowd and away from Sarah.

"Oh! Thank you so much! I hate that kind of guy. You saved me." Sarah smiled up into the man's face with such a look of gratitude he had to laugh.

"Oh, please don't mention it. I can't stand when little creeps like that hit on people. Gives the place a bad reputation. We aren't all like that, I promise you. Say, can I get you a drink?"

Because she felt grateful for his intervention, Sarah accepted and together they walked to the bar in the center of the room. She would stay a little longer, after all. Once served, they stood together quietly, drinks in hand. Sarah noticed the large collection of whips near the bar. Her eyes widened as she stared at the crops, floggers, and cat-o'-nine-tails hanging prettily from their hooks. The gentleman grinned as he saw what she was looking at with such open-eyed wonder.

"You're new here, aren't you? And, I'd venture to guess, new to the scene?"

The scene. There was that word again. This secret society that pulsated all around her and she had never realized it even existed. But it all seemed like such a game - this "scene" was just that - a play complete with characters dressed up and performing their roles. It left a bitter taste in Sarah's mouth. Her own fantasies were so real to her - this seemed like a cruel joke.

"The scene," she blurted out, more forcefully than she had meant to. Flushing slightly, she looked down, but continued with dogged determination. "What is all this talk about 'the scene'? Is this just a game to all of you? Are you one more player come to 'show me a good time'? No, let me guess. You are a 'Master' who has been waiting all his life for a slave girl like me to drop into this club, this scene, right?" She spluttered to a halt as she realized that he was laughing. It was a big, open-throated laugh that took her totally by surprise.

"Well," she said, stiffening, "I can see this is all very funny to you. Go laugh with your friends now-I'm going home."

"No! Wait! I'm sorry," he said, reaching out to touch her arm as she set her glass hard against the bar. "Please forgive me. I find you simply delightful. To tell you the truth, I'm not used to such candor. And you are so right. So much that goes on here is play. But that is the nature of this place, don't you see? This is a club where people come to perform for each other. Nothing here is taken seriously. It is just for fun. That doesn't mean it's a bad thing, though. It just is what it is. I don't know where you got your expectations, or even what they are, but I doubt your dreams will come true here."

Sarah was listening to him. She noticed that he hadn't taken his hand from her arm. Pulling it away from him, she turned to face him. "What do you know of my dreams?" she asked in a calmer tone.

"I know some general things-or I can guess."

"Yes? Go ahead, let's hear what you think you know about me."

"Well," he smiled, looking right into her eyes. "I think you are submissive." Sarah looked away suddenly. She felt an undeniable thrill at hearing someone describe her like that. But she didn't say anything. He continued.

"I think you are looking for something, or someone here. I think you are new to all this, but still interested."

"Well, that's pretty general stuff," she said. "Not too hard to guess that about anyone here."

As if challenged, he continued, still looking directly at her. "You are submissive, but untested. You are looking for a man who can test you, who can discover what it is that moves you. Someone who understands your need to submit. To be used. To be controlled and bent to another's pleasure." Sarah found that her mouth had gone dry. Taking a long drink from her glass, she looked back at this stranger who seemed to know her so well. Who was this man?

She realized they hadn't even exchanged names. "I'm Sarah." She extended her hand.

"Julian, at your service," he said, grasping her hand firmly. He didn't drop it as he continued to speak. "You are new, as you say. But you are ready. I can see it in your eyes; in how you carry yourself. I know what you need. You need a Master. You need a real man to teach you how to submit. I can teach you. I've been watching you. I can show you the way to heaven."

Sarah was aware that he sounded far too sure of himself. She stifled an impulse to laugh at his stilted words. Yet, even as her intellect was amused by his arrogance, she found her body responding to what he offered. She was curious, desperately curious.

Julian continued, "Let's get out of here. I know a nice little place near here where we can get a cup of coffee and get to know each other a little better."

Almost not believing herself, Sarah found herself agreeing to join him. After all, he had gallantly rescued her from that creepy punk. But that wasn't the real reason. She wanted to hear more. She wanted to learn more from this confident older man. She felt as if she could trust him.

"Just a minute," she said. "I have to tell my friend I'm leaving." She walked over to the circle where Beth was still standing.

As Sarah was about to speak, Beth turned around. "Oh, hi, Julian. I see you've met my friend Sarah." Sarah was surprised but pleased to see that this man was not a complete stranger. She whispered to Beth that she was going with Julian to get a cup of coffee and not to wait for her.

"That was fast, Sarah, dear," Beth said, laughing. "But you picked a good one. Julian is a nice guy. You'll be safe with him." Leaning over to Sarah, Beth said in a loud stage whisper, "But you'd better call me when you get home and tell me all about your adventures." Sarah flushed at Beth's flippant words, while the group around her laughed. Ignoring them, she turned to Julian, who gallantly offered his arm to the young woman.

Sarah sighed with relief as they entered the clear night air. The club had been stuffy and thick with cigarette smoke. And what a strange crowd! Breathing deeply, she did a little pirouette on the sidewalk. Julian laughed and said, "What a pretty picture you make, dancing there in the dark." Sarah was embarrassed but pleased by his remark. They walked quietly for a few blocks. Julian led her to the door of a small café.

When they were shown to their table, he pulled out her chair in what she felt was a charming, old-fashioned way. She was beginning to relax and enjoy herself. Once coffee was ordered, Julian leaned back in his chair and smiled at Sarah. "I promised to tell you about myself. I am forty-three years old. I have been in the scene for over twenty years. I'm what you'd call a 'Dominant,' or 'Dom' for short. I like the power of taking what I want when I want it. I like to train little girls like you and use them for my pleasure. I like to play. This is a game, but a wonderful one.

"I have references; you'll find I'm highly regarded in the SM community. I don't know exactly what you're looking for, but I should warn you that I don't fall in love. If you become my slave, you will be my toy, not my lover. I have lots of toys and I don't like to be limited. If you think you could tolerate that, I'm willing to take you home with me and find out what you're made of."

Sarah had discovered that she was not breathing while he spoke. Her first impulse, again, was to laugh at him. He was rather good-looking, for an older guy, she thought. But still, where did he get off with that attitude? She rarely allowed men to talk to her in such a pompous manner. She was generally brutal in her attack if she thought someone was acting in an arrogant fashion, especially a man. But because of the content of what he said, and the context in which they had met, Sarah found herself mute. Rather than deflating his balloon of self-satisfied ego, she, instead, sat tongue-tied like an awestruck schoolgirl.

"Well?" he said, looking directly at her as if he could see into her secret thoughts. "The first thing you would learn under my tutelage is to speak when spoken to, little lady."

Little lady. The address made her cringe. But still, though this was not necessarily the ideal man for her, he had offered to 'use her.' He was a 'Master,' even if only self-proclaimed. Not sure she could do better, Sarah swallowed her pride and, lowering her eyes, murmured in a low voice, "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I want to know if my dreams were meant to become reality. I want to go home with you." Even as she spoke, she couldn't believe her own boldness. Just then, the waitress brought their order. They sipped their coffee in silence. He was smiling as he surveyed her. She avoided his gaze, looking instead around the café, though she noticed nothing. They finished their coffee and Julian paid the check.

They walked the few blocks to where his car was parked. Again, gentleman that he was, Julian opened her door and waited until she was safe inside to close it. They drove a few minutes to his apartment building in the Village and parked in the adjacent garage. During that short drive, Sarah found that her mind was numb. It was almost as if she didn't dare think; to do so might invite retraction and retreat. She knew what she was doing was crazy. She didn't want to think it over. Closing her eyes, she thought of nothing. And, before she knew it, Julian had parked the car.

He lived a few floors up in a modest but well-kept apartment building. In the small, old-fashioned elevator, Julian stood quietly next to her, his arms crossed over his chest. Sarah was silent as well, unconsciously biting her lower lip. She glanced sidelong at him, surveying the stranger with whom she had agreed to go home.

His face was handsome, with large, regular features. His gray eyes were widely spaced over a rather broad, slightly hooked nose. Only his mouth kept him from being really good-looking-his lips were too thin. But he managed to camouflage that drawback with his beard and mustache. Sarah's eyes traveled down to his body. Julian was tall, with broad shoulders and strong arms. He was beginning to show signs of a slight paunch.

Suddenly he turned and looked Sarah square in the face. She looked straight ahead, trying to conceal the fact that she had been examining him. Julian's expression was amused as he turned back to face the front of the elevator. It clanked to a lurching halt and the doors opened. Julian led her down the narrow hallway to his apartment door.

Unlocking it, he gestured for her to enter and turned on the light near the door. The place was clean and decorated with a decidedly masculine touch. The furniture was leather and the color scheme was muted grays and blues. Sarah stood uncertainly near the door, clasping her hands in front of her. Julian stepped close to her. Butterflies were dancing in her stomach. She felt almost as if she were acting in a play - only she had no lines. She felt almost silly, and yet more serious than she ever had in her life. She had to seize this moment. She had to.

"Are you prepared to serve me, young woman?" Sarah jumped slightly. He had whispered close to her ear. She could smell his cologne. Almost in a dream, she nodded.

"Then the first thing you must do is strip."

Sarah stood stock-still, not sure she had heard him correctly. As if she had spoken aloud, he said, "You heard me. Off with your pretty little dress, Sarah. Now! " In spite of the emphasis he had put on the last word, she made no move to obey him. He came close to her then and said, "I see you cannot obey even the simplest command. I will assist you. Kneel down before me."

"Pardon me?" she managed to stammer.

"Kneel."

"I think I've made a mistake, Julian. Excuse me. I have to go now." As she spoke, Sarah began edging toward the door.

"Don't go, Sarah. We haven't even begun. This is your chance to explore. To find out if this is more than just a game for you. Don't deny your impulses. Don't deny the obvious need. Give in to it. Surrender. You may not have this chance again."

Sarah knew he was right. This was her chance to try what she claimed was her secret desire. She reached behind herself and started slowly to unzip her dress.

But before she had her chance to belatedly obey his earlier command to strip, Julian grabbed Sarah's shoulders. He pressed her to the floor, forcing her to kneel before him. "You didn't strip when I ordered you to do so. You didn't kneel when I commanded it. Now you will have to be punished, little Sarah." With that he pressed her head to the floor, which forced her ass high in the air. With one hand he flipped up her dress. His other hand stayed pressed firmly on her neck.

She was squirming and yelling.

"Let me up! Please! Julian!"

Ignoring her protests, he held her in position with one hand as he caressed and smoothed her round little bottom through her panties. Then he smacked her ass lightly with his open palm, several times in succession. As he spanked her, he increased the pressure with each smack.

Sarah, who had been taken totally by surprise by all this, now cried out and jerked, trying to get away. He held her in place with ease. Again he swatted her as she continued to struggle. Sarah was breathing hard and tensing her body.

Julian stopped spanking her and began smoothing her bottom and thighs, cooing, "There, there, little slave girl. That's all for now. Perhaps now you will obey me when I tell you to do something."

He flipped her dress back over her ass and helped her up to a standing position. Sarah didn't speak. She was stunned at what had just occurred. She was too scared even to open her mouth. She focused on calming her breathing; slowing her racing heart. While part of her was outraged that he had done this to her before she felt "ready," another part of her, which she couldn't deny, was thrilling to what had just happened. As she rubbed her sore bottom, she felt a rising lust that made her feel weak.

As if unaware of her confusion, or simply unconcerned, Julian sat on the couch nearby and said firmly, "For the rest of our time together, unless I tell you otherwise, you are to address me as 'Sir.' Do you understand?" Sarah stared at him, but didn't respond.

Julian rose and strode over to her. Leaning down, he slapped her cheek lightly.

Gasping, she reached up to touch the spot. Then, in a low voice: "Y-Y-Yes, Sir."

"Very good." Julian grinned. "Now, slave. I want to see you. Really see you. Please remove your clothing for me. And then stand at attention, back straight, hands at your sides, head bowed."

Slave. The word kept reverberating in her head. Sex slave, love slave. This wasn't a dream; this wasn't one of her nocturnal fantasies. This was real. Sarah felt her own desire burning within, even as she blushed at the thought of stripping for this man. She was a little afraid of him now, but determined to go on. Her own desire, lust, and need were pushing her to act. Sarah looked up at Julian then and blushed anew as she realized he was regarding her intently. She felt sure somehow he could read her thoughts. Without being reminded again, she pulled her dress slowly over her head. Her large breasts bounced free Julian was staring at her, his face inscrutable. Sarah was not used to this reaction, or rather, non-reaction, to her almost-bare body. She felt uncertain, almost like a nervous child. Wrapping her arms around herself protectively, Sarah stood still, waiting.

"Oh, don't stop now, slave girl. Off with your panties. Hurry up, dear. You may leave on your stockings and heels. I rather like the slut look."

As if in a dream, Sarah pulled down her own panties and then kicked them away. She started to cover her naked form again, but was reminded with a shake of Julian's head that she was to keep her arms at her sides. Julian looked at her for some minutes. She was glad for the command to keep her head down; she felt from the heat in her face that she was still blushing. At last he got up and walked over to her. Taking her hand, he led her down a hallway to what turned out to be the bedroom.

Without a word, he brought her over to the bed in the middle of the room and flipped her onto it, facedown. The mattress was resting in a frame of natural wrought iron. The iron was brushed to a burnished silver and twisted into lovely patterns of a crescent moon and stars. Soft leather straps were hanging from each corner. Sarah noticed that the straps were well worn. She was certainly not the first young woman Julian had convinced to explore her fantasies.

Before she could dwell on this line of thought, Julian quickly and expertly attached Sarah's wrists and ankles to the bed, using the straps. She barely had time to protest before she found herself bound spread-eagled before him.

Sarah felt she would pass out from the excitement of her situation. It was still with some disbelief that she lay there, bound and nearly naked. It took her a moment to realize that Julian was speaking. As he spoke, he turned her head so that she was facing the wall.

"Look at all my pretty toys. I've been collecting these for twenty years now. And if you are very, very good, you will get to experience each and every one of them."

There before her was a whole array of instruments of torment and pleasure. Whips, canes, ropes, restraints, and gags covered the wall in a formidable array.

"Oh my God!" she breathed, at once shocked and fascinated. She couldn't take her eyes off the wall. Julian grinned as he walked over and removed an especially soft silk cloth from its special hook on the wall.

"Here my love, this scarf should help you keep quiet. Sometimes I will want to hear your cries, but for now, I want to concentrate on your first whipping."

Her first whipping! Yes, she had wanted this, but so soon? Not being able to control her own fear, Sarah began to struggle. It was in vain, of course. She was completely immobilized by her bonds. Julian came to her then and traced her full lips with his finger. "Relax, slave girl. I know you are still getting used to your new, er, situation. But resistance will only make it more difficult for you." He then leaned onto the bed and placed the gag firmly over her mouth, knotting it at the nape of her neck. Standing back from the bed, he admired his handiwork.

Then Sarah felt Julian's hand on her sex. He pressed against her netherlips and pushed a finger inside her gently. He found to his delight that she was wet and ready for him. She realized this as well and her blush deepened as she was forced to acknowledge her own eagerness for his touch. With increasing intensity he began to massage and pinch her swelling pussylips till she was moaning softly through her gag, then withdrew his hand. She almost arched up toward it, but resisted consciously, still feeling embarrassed and unsure.

Julian regarded his lovely bound slave girl for a moment, studying her features. He saw the shame and confusion mixing so sweetly with the desire, the need.

Sarah's heart was pounding. So it was true! Just from this little taste of submission, she knew that she was born to this. Her own fierce desire left her almost more frightened than the thought of what was going to happen to her next.

Julian roused her from her reverie. "See those hooks in the ceiling? And those hooks in the floor? See that whipping post? And this - yes, I see you looking at it. It is called a St. Andrew's Cross." He gestured to an X-shaped crucifixion device on the wall.

"When you are ready, when you are better trained, I will chain you there and tease you till you beg for mercy." Sarah's eyes were wide. A mental image of herself chained there caused a tug in her pussy, almost as if someone had grabbed her there. Sarah's breathing was ragged and she felt her own delicious helplessness keenly. She was on fire.

"They will be for another day," Julian promised. "For now I will just whip you a bit." Sarah began to struggle again; the idea of a whipping too much for her yet to contemplate. Julian remained placid and continued speaking as if unaware of her efforts, her fear, her soft whimpers through the gag. "For your first whipping I have chosen this lovely little flogger." Julian brought over a soft black suede whip with about thirty flat, unbraided thongs. "I think you will find it quite, ah, stimulating."

He stroked her skin with the whip, teasing the flesh with his skillful touch. He smoothed her with the soft leather until he felt her relax. Then, pulling back his arm, Julian let the lash gently fall against the soft flesh of her bottom. Sarah jumped and flinched. The blow had not been hard, but it was her first encounter with the kiss of a lash. Again the thongs fell on her proffered asscheeks. Over and over he flogged her, slowly but steadily increasing the intensity of the whipping.

Writhing and moaning, Sarah tried in vain to avoid the lash. But, bound and spread as she was, she couldn't escape its sting. She was helpless before this man. Her confusion mounted as she experienced both the pleasure and the pain of this sweet torture. Her mind was still hanging on to its feeble claim of outrage while her loins were on fire with sexual need. The whip really did hurt, and yet at the same time, it felt perfect. It was so right. It was what she needed; it was what she craved

Julian delivered one final blow to her ass, harder than the others. She jumped and cried out through her gag. He touched her wetness then, pressing his palm against her. Slowly he began to massage and caress her. This time Sarah did not hold back. She was beyond modesty. Rubbing against his fingers, she moved as best she was able in this bound position. Leaning across her, Julian released her gag and kissed her hair and face. He continued to touch her, his slick fingers finding the hard bud of her clit. She moaned softly and he felt her heat in his hand.

Sarah edged closer to her own swooning release. She felt a freedom of spirit that until this moment she had only dreamed was possible. Under his relentless touch she cried out in ecstasy as her body arched up into his.

She had realized her fantasies at last. Or had she?