It was only a short walk from the tube station, and she had checked the route many times over the last few days. It was important that she wasn't late, but also that she didn't arrive too early. Consequently she had spent twenty minutes in a coffee shop by the station - killing time. A half empty cup of cappuccino and an untouched croissant sat on the table in front of her. The nerves were beginning to get the better of her, and the butterflies in her stomach had made her slightly nauseous. However there was also another ache that she needed to address. Perhaps this weekend would put those feeling to rest. She checked her phone for messages. Even when she was on holiday there were often things that required her attention at work. She had never been good at delegating, or for that matter trusting people. She assumed that was why her personal relationships had never worked out. The men she attracted tended to be needy, and as such they were never capable of addressing her needs.
She felt conspicuous in her long black coat on such a warm day, but needs must. Even though she knew no one in this leafy part of North London, she wasn't prepared to take it off just yet. For a moment she wondered how the clientele of the café would respond if she did, she smiled to herself, and checked her watch once again. After paying the bill she left the café and walked the short distance to his house.
Although she hadn't been here before, she had looked it up on Google Maps and had often wondered what would lay behind the heavy black door. She pulled out her phone and took a photograph of the front door, and then sent it together with a short message to her friend, as they had agreed. You could never be too careful, she thought. Then she paused and looked at the three stone steps that led up to the door. Should she turn and walk back to the station, pretend this had never happened? It had taken three months to get to this moment, and deep down she knew that whatever happened in the next few hours she would always regret it if she ran away. She checked her watch, one minute to go, it was important that she was on time. Although she tried to remain clam, she couldn't resist checking her watch every few seconds.
She didn't feel her normal self today, not the usual composed and self-assured person her colleagues thought they knew so well. She felt like a nervous teenager again. A quick glance at her watch told her there were fifteen seconds left. This was so far outside her comfort zone. Not just what she was about to do, but what she was wearing beneath her long black coat. She took a deep breath and stepped up the three step and placing her small overnight bag on the top step, wrapped her fingers around the brass door knocker, and knocked three times.
There was a pause that felt like hours, but was probably only a few seconds. The butterflies in her stomach were getting worse, and she was about to turn and walk away. Perhaps this wasn't his house, and it had been all been an elaborate joke?
She thought back to the beginning when they'd met on a specialist chat site and had begun discussing fantasies. What did she really know about him? He was called Richard, and he was a lawyer, but that was probably untrue, after all he thought she was called, Chloe, and that she worked in IT. However those details were unimportant, he knew more about the real her than anyone else. They had talked openly about her fantasies without her feeling that he was shocked or disappointed in her. After all they were only fantasies. That was before he suggested that she might want to act them out for real.
The lock clicked and she snapped out of her daydream. The heavy black door swung open and he was standing there, staring at her. He looked younger in real life, and was dressed in a conservative suit. Fleeting she wondered if he was a lawyer after all. He studied her dispassionately for a while, but remained silent. She knew he was playing the role they had agreed, but the longer he waited the more she felt uncomfortable and subservient to him. It was new experience for her, she was used to being the one in control. After what seemed like an eternity he stepped slightly to one side, and she was forced to squeeze passed him into the entrance hall. Without saying a word he took the overnight bag from her hand and placed it at the foot of the stairs. Then he placed his hand in the middle of her back and gently pushed her towards a half open door to the left of the stairs.
The room she entered appeared to be a study, the curtains were closed and the only illumination came from a lamp on the heavy mahogany desk against the far wall. He stood behind her and took off her coat. As the heavy coat slipped from her shoulders she shivered, partially due to the temperature of the room, but mainly due to her partially nudity. He hung the coat over the desk chair and took a seat in a large armchair directly in front of her. She felt self-conscious and wanted to cover her body with her hands, but she knew that would not be allowed, and she didn't want to incur any punishments this early.
He sat, leaned back in the armchair and stared at her. She was wearing what he had requested, a half cup bra that left her hard nipples exposed, and a tiny thong that only just covered her sex, black stockings and high heels completed the outfit. For some reason wearing these slutty clothes made her feel more exposed than if she'd been completely naked. She was aware that the hardness of her nipples were not entirely due to the temperature of the room, and that the tiny thong was soaking wet. It had been a week since he had last given her permission to masturbate and for the last seven days she had found it difficult to concentrate at work. She could smell her own arousal, and assumed he must be well aware of it too. Her hand twitched and she just managed to stop it from flying to sex. They made eye contact and she blushed, he looked stern, and disappointed with her. Then she noticed the slight flicker of a smile, and she relaxed slightly. They had discussed this scenario many times before and they both knew their roles and what happened next.
He pointed at a patch of carpet in front of him, and she stepped forward and stood on the spot. Her hands at her sides and her head slightly bowed.
'Why are you here?' He asked.
'To be trained, Richard.'
He raised an eyebrow.
'Sir.' She corrected herself. He smiled.
'I'm glad you've obeyed my orders and dressed accordingly. You do make a pretty little slut.'
Normally she'd have been outraged to be called a slut, but here and now she took it as a complement, and blushed.
'Thank you..Sir.'
'Have you also obeyed my other order?'
'Yes.' She blushed again. 'I haven't touched myself for a whole week.'
'
A whole week.'
He laughed, 'I'm sure that's been torture for you my little slut.'
It was her turn to smile.
