One slight problem with our arrangement for Sunday evening was that I didn't actually own a video camera. Not that I'm complaining, of course – I would more than happily have paid twice what I did down at Dixon's that Sunday morning for the chance to capture her beauty and her submission on camera. So there was a definite spring in my step as I returned home that morning, already beginning to try and plan the details of what I was going to put Jane through in our little movie later that day.
When I got back to the building, I met my new neighbour, Alison, on the steps, walking back in with the
Independent on Sunday
newspaper and a pint of milk. She smiled thankfully as I held the main door open for her, looking casually sexy in dark jeans and a baggy white t-shirt. We walked together up the stairs to our floor.
"You had fun with your friend yesterday?"
She phrased it more like a statement than a question, and I was thrown – panicked even. What did she know? How had she found out? What did she think?
"Excuse me?" I spluttered.
"Your friend, you know – the dark-haired woman on your doorstep dressed like she was on the pull? You'd think a man would remember something like that, especially after she goes inside with him."
She had a deliciously frank way of speaking, I had to give her that. I couldn't help smiling.
"Oh her, yes. Right. Jane – she lives at number nine, actually."
It occurred to me that Alison might have actually heard Jane's cries of passion as she climaxed yesterday. They were pretty loud. Well, what the hell if she did? We were both consenting adults, after all.
"Been shopping?" she asked, pointing at the Dixon's bag as we reached our floor.
"Yes... New video camera."
"Nice..." She turned her key in the lock and pushed her door open. "Well, you and your friend have fun with that."
She winked at me and then disappeared into her flat, shutting the door before I even had time to realise that I hadn't mentioned Jane having anything to do with my purchase of the camera, nor would I have done.
That Alison was turning out to be a very intriguing woman indeed.
But it was Jane who I found all the more intriguing, of course, and beguiling. I spent most of the rest of the day trying to work out where best to place the camera – I couldn't afford a tripod as well, so it was just going to have to sit on the table – and how to set out my little amateur film set.
I managed to have it all worked out relatively quickly, and having my plans in place with so many hours still to go before my leading lady arrived only meant that I was all the more excited as I counted down the minutes until six o'clock. I could of course simply have phoned her and gotten her to come up right away – she would have come, no doubt about that, but I'd said six o'clock and that was that. I'm the sort of guy who likes to stick by his arrangements, once he's made them.
Eventually the hour came, and I was half-mad with desire and anticipation, leaping out of my chair and waiting by the door as soon as I heard the sound of her feet on the landing outside. She was still knocking on the door as I opened it, surprised that I was there so quickly and then grinning, pleased to see her Master once more.
It was hot and muggy weather out today, and she was certainly dressed for it, even though we of course would be going no further than the confines of my flat. All she wore was an orange bikini-top, a tight little denim miniskirt and light brown strappy open-toed shoes.
"You said I wouldn't be wearing it for very long," she explained confidently, not yet quite deferring to her role as the meek little slave girl. "So I decided I may as well not wear very much."
I nodded approvingly, standing aside to let her in and then giving her denim-covered behind a playful little slap as she entered.
"Ow!" she yelped, grinning.
"You look like a slut," I told her.
"Thank you sir," she replied proudly. However, after a moment her smile faltered a little.
"What's the matter?"
"It's nothing really, it's just..."
"Yes?"
"Well... I met that woman on the stairs, just as I was coming out of my flat. She was on her way out somewhere."
"What woman?"
"The new woman in number ten. Alison."
Ah, the delightful Miss Nash once again.
"Surely you weren't embarrassed about her catching you with nearly nothing on?" I teased. "It's none of her business, after all..."
I have to admit though I did enjoy the idea of Jane being caught in the slutty little outfit that was doubtless supposed to be for my eyes only.
"It's not that," she told me. "It's what she said."
I was definitely intrigued now.
"Oh?"
"We said hello to each other, and she introduced herself, said how she'd just moved in... Then she looked at me sort of oddly, and said – 'I hear Ian in number eleven has just bought a new video camera'. And then she... She winked at me. And told me to 'have fun'. Ian, what does she know?"
I couldn't help but laugh at the whole thing. Also, the image of Alison dropping such hints to Jane was a delicious one – I was getting some devilish thoughts about what those two girls would be like taken together... Mmmmmmm... Oddly though, I somehow couldn't quite picture Alison being the willing little submissive, not like Jane.
"She saw me coming back in with the camera this morning, after I'd bought it," I explained, trying to reassure her.
"You bought a camera especially?" Jane asked, aghast. "I thought you'd already have one..."
"No expense spared – don't worry about it, honestly. Anyway – she saw you coming in here yesterday, and you know how you were dressed then. She probably just assumes... Well, assumes that we're doing what we are – two consenting adults having fun. Does it bother you then?"
As I asked this last question I approached her, suddenly sticking my hand up between her legs under her denim skirt and feeling her roughly through the thin, skimpy panties she was wearing.
"Does it bother you?" I continued. "One of your neighbours knowing what a little slut you are? Seeing you dressed like that, and like you were yesterday, thinking what a little hussy you must be, going upstairs to be
fucked
like a bad little girl?"
Already she was wet, and I pressed two of my fingers against her clit through the clammy material.
"I don't think it bothers you at all," I told her. "I think you love it, don't you?"
She nodded, sighing and half-closing her eyes.
"I do," she confessed.
"You do what?"
"Love it... Love being such a bad little slut..."
I removed my hand and slapped her behind again.
"No, you're still missing something bitch!"
Suddenly she remembered.
"Sir! I love being a bad little slut, sir..."
"Better."
I left her for a moment, going over to the window and drawing the blinds shut. I switched on the lights, completing our secluded little studio set-up. It occurred to me that on neither of her two previous visits to the flat for submission had I closed the blinds – some lucky enthusiastic pervert across the road could have watched it all, although I doubted it.
Picking up the video camera, I switched it on and aimed it at her, watching as she regarded it with barely-concealed excitement on her face. I placed my thumb on the record button, ready to begin our own little kinky movie.
"Ready to degrade yourself further by becoming a porn star, slut?" I asked her eagerly.
"Yes sir!" she enthused.
"Honestly, such a little whore. What
would
your mother say?"
Instead of seeming embarrassed at this, she simply grinned. I pressed my thumb down on the button, and began to record.
"Okay then," I told her. "Here we go. You're on camera now, the star of the show. Smile for us."
She smiled and posed alluringly as I ran the camera slowly up and down her body, concentrating on her lovely legs and of course those barely-concealed breasts, which still looked red and sore from the beating they'd received the day before, as well they should. I zoomed in on them, before zooming back out a little and concentrating on her face.
"Introduce yourself, slut," I demanded. "Tell us who and what you are."
She was a natural at this, and needed little prompting. Again, I suspected that she was now at last living out one of her longest-held little fantasies, the pretence of ultimate porn star degradation.
"I'm Jane," she told the camera lustily. "And I'm a bad, bad little slut. I'm very lucky though, as I have a wonderful Master to punish me for being such a little whore and make sure I'm put in my place."
Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. I was hot and wanted her already.
"I think we should show them what a hot little slut you are," I told her. "Turn around and bend over."
She did as commanded of course, and I crouched down to get a good view with the camera as that tight little denim skirt – that couldn't possibly have been a regular part of her wardrobe, she must have purchased it specially – rode up high over her behind and exposed the damp knickers of hers, which turned out to be red. I zoomed in on the thin, wet material, the evidence of her wanton lust.
"You're so wet," I told her. "You can't even control yourself, can you slut?"
"No sir," she admitted as she stayed bent over, pretending to sound miserable about it.
"This is why you need to be punished," I explained.
"Yes sir. Thank you sir."
"You may stand."
As she stood I set the camera back down on the table, carefully making sure it was positioned and zoomed out correctly to be able to get a good view of the 'main stage' I'd elected upon. In the wall at the end of the living room, quite high up towards the ceiling, was a small metal hook. Set into one of the main beams of the building, it was quite strong enough to hold her weight – I'd already tested it myself earlier on. Usually a picture hung on it, but that had been removed and the bare hook was large enough to be able to hold a bind to tie her.
But she knew none of this yet, of course. I went and stood by the hook.
"Come here," I told her.
She followed me to the wall, looking up at once at the hook above her, knowing almost certainly what it was for. As she looked up, I looked down at her wonderful cleavage, and realised at once that the bikini top was actually the perfect bond with which to tie her, and without saying a word I moved behind her, unclipping it and letting it fall to the ground. My hands drifted around to her breasts, and she winced as I massaged her sore nipples between thumb and forefinger, pressing down against her breasts with the other parts of my hands.
"Nice?" I asked.
