Susan sat and waited for him, lips pursed as she nervously sipped her coffee with butterflies in her stomach. She was beautiful; auburn curls spilling down the full curves of her chest, framing her youthful girlish features. She dressed as he asked: 'conservatively, but with cleavage', their meeting looking perfectly innocuous, with a slight hint to what they were both there for. Her petite frame was clothed in a smart black trouser suit, plain back shoes, and a simple tight white cotton top, high enough not to draw any disapproving looks, but cut low enough to see just at little more than was appropriate.
Susan had seen him before, spoken to him many times, but never actually met him.
'What was she doing here?' She thought to herself, with a jump of alarm. 'What if someone found out?'
"Hello Susan." A voice from her side startled her, as she looked around to see Jake taking a seat next to her.
"Hello." She said, managing to maintain a sense of calmness while her heart raced.
And then they talked. Having quite a different conversation from the ones they were used to. There wasn't a mention of anything pink, fluffy, or girls with charmingly low IQ whatsoever. He talked about his work, waxing lyrical about his colleague who had the most annoying habit of making deeply unfunny innuendos. She talked nervously, her eyes dancing between his and the table top, as they made small talk about reality TV. After a while she relaxed, and at one point found herself animatedly agreeing that people who spit in public should be rounded up and sent to evening classes to learn manners.
"Yes!" She squealed, slapping the table, before realising herself and putting her hand to her mouth.
He smiled at her, and glanced down at her chest.
"Nice boobs Susan." He said casually.
"Oh thanks." She blurted, not knowing what to say, looking down at herself and feeling self conscious, a slight jump of excitement stiring inside, as he resumed the light-hearted conversation.
Every so often he would quietly throw in a comment which wasn't in keeping with their easy going conversation. 'You dumb bitch!' and 'no, not that you stupid cunt', were said, but never dwelt on, merely acting as reminders of why they were talking, and making her heart jump a little bit each time.
"Right I'm going home. Care to join me?" He asked.
This was it. This was what she'd come for, fantasised about, and thought about for so long. They had agreed a safe word, but if she joined him there would be no going back.
"Okay." She said, the knot of excitement, fear and anticipation now building to breaking point in her stomach.
They walked the short distance from the coffee shop to his flat, opened the door, and walked up the stairs. She followed him into the sitting room, almost in a dream like state, and looked around the typical London flat; a couple of plush sofas sat on top of a thick carpet, a wide-screen TV positioned on the wall of an otherwise quite minimalist room. She couldn't think of what to say, and the silence was becoming unbearable.
'Was this really going to happen?' She couldn't help thinking to herself. It just didn't seem real.
"Would you like a tour?" He asked.
She nodded in reply: "Hmmm, hmmm." Was all she managed, nerves catching her tongue.
He walked over to her and calmly grabbed a fistful of hair.
"This way." He said, as he firmly dragged her out of the sitting room and into the kitchen.
"What room do you think this is?" He asked.
"The kitchen."
"Good girl Susan! And do you want a drink?"
"Um... not now." She stammered.
"I think you should have one."
He walked over to the sink, grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and filled it from the tap.
"Drink." He ordered, placing the bowl on the counter and forcing her head down towards it.
She did as she was told, awkwardly stabbing her tongue in and out of the bowl, feeling helpless and absurd as her head was at a difficult angle, meaning she couldn't really drink anything.
"Good girl Susan." He said, taking the bowl and putting it on the floor. "We'll leave it here for later."
He pulled her back down the corridor to the sitting room, his hand never jerked her head, but instead controlled it slowly but firmly, as she let herself be pushed down onto the sofa.
"Sit up you stupid girl." He instructed. "Push your shoulders back."
She did as she was told, thrusting her chest outwards and sitting up straight, as her breasts pushed against the tight white cotton top.
"Is this okay?" She asked.
"That's good." He nodded. "But would it kill you to smile?"
She stretched her lips and tried to pull her best smile, looking at the ceiling in embarrassment, before dropping her head into her hands.
"Ohhh sorry! I can't do it!" She exclaimed.
"Why not?" He asked, patiently.
"I don't know! I just don't know how!" She moaned.
He walked over to her and lowered his face until it was level with hers. He took in her beauty, her brown eyes, opened wide in anticipation. She was gorgeous, there was no doubting that, but she would need a lot of work.
"I'm going to lay down some ground rules okay?"
She nodded.
"You're going to stop thinking about doing what I say, and just do what I say. If you don't then I'm going to have to punish you. Understand?"
"Yes." She replied with a nod.