The room was dominated by a four-poster bed, heavy and solid in dark wood. Set on a deep pile circular rug. There were two large sash windows through which the November sun shone. Looking out, Nicole could see out over trees and fields. The curtains were deep red, heavy velvet. Another curtain, the same colour, covered almost the whole width of the wall facing the foot of the bed. The floor was light wood, polished boards with a deep rug.

'It's beautiful...' Nicole was overwhelmed. Anne was behind her, her arms wrapped around Nicole's waist. She kissed Nicole's neck, her breath warming the skin.

'Thank you. I've taken a lot of time on this room. But you must need to freshen up. The bathroom is across the landing. I'll leave something for you on the bed to wear . Come down when you've finished.'

Nicole had shut the bathroom door and was running water in the bath; she'd even poured some expensive-looking bath foam into the steaming water when she realised that she was still wearing Anne's collar and bracelets. She didn't think that soaking them in hot water would do them any good, and she was part loath to spoil them, part afraid of the consequences if she did. She doubted that Anne would appreciate being called, so she decided to bathe carefully, keeping the leather dry. Washing her hair was the hardest, wrapping it tightly in a towel afterwards seemed to work. It was difficult and slow, but eventually she felt clean. The time alone felt awkward. She was trying to think. Everything seemed so confusing. She'd never have thought that she'd enjoy being bound, never have considered sex with another woman. But she didn't feel guilty, as she had expected, just pleasantly warm from the orgasm. Was it because she had been bound, that it wasn't really her fault? Was it really her? Did it matter? The answers never came, the questions stopped making sense.

Wrapped in a big, soft towel, she walked into the bedroom. There was a pair of dusky pink satin pyjamas on the bed. A hairdryer was lying next to it. Brushing her hair, she snagged the collar. She'd forgotten it completely again. She wouldn't have believed that would be possible, but now she was suddenly acutely aware of it and her bracelets. She wondered what Anne had done with the key.

Anne was downstairs. Despite her elation, she was worried. Nicole had taken to the collar more naturally than she could ever have hoped. She had worried before about whether she would be rejected, then about whether the reality of binding and whipping her would match up to her fantasies and her imagination. It had, but there was something about the early stages that made her insecure. She wasn't sure what to try next. She might leave that to Nicole; she might not know what she wanted, but it would be best to let her set the pace. Not that it would do to tell her that. Not yet anyway. She smiled to herself and walked to the cupboard. There were some pains au chocolat that would make a good lunch.

Nicole waked slowly down the stairs, following the tantalising scent of warm pastry and chocolate. She called out to her friend, not sure where the kitchen was. Hearing her, Anne realised that she'd never shown Nicole the way to the kitchen, and opened the door.

'That smells really good.' Nicole realised that she hadn't eaten yet that day.

'How do you feel?'

'Wonderful, but very hungry.'

There was a slight defensiveness, as if neither was entirely willing to bring up the subject of what they'd just done. Nicole was a little confused. The collar and bracelets close, almost comforting. Anne just seemed to be watching her with those deep brown eyes. It felt odd to be sitting here, eating pains au chocolat, drinking black coffee as if it was a normal Saturday morning. She felt she had to say something.

'What are your plans for this weekend?' She regretted the question instantly. She hadn't meant to blurt it out quite like that. The answer was little comfort.

'That's for me to know and you to find out.' Anne was playing with her. She loved watching her friend's response. She held her friend's gaze until Nicole's eyes dropped. This was her opportunity.

'Please, do not be impertinent.'

'Sorry, Mistress.'

Nicole was slipping back. Her breathing was faster. She could feel her chest tensing. Anne reached across the table, cupping Nicole's chin in her left hand, lifting it to bring her eyes back into contact.

'I will continue to enjoy you as I did this morning. You will learn just what it is to serve me. I will bring you to the deepest and most meaningful submission that you have ever felt and you will beg me for more.'

Nicole swallowed hard. She was torn between intrigue, arousal, lust and fear. The fear only served to spur her on more. She was becoming intoxicated with desire. She felt herself slip off the chair and fall to her knees, as she had knelt, naked that morning.

'Please teach me the meaning of submission, Mistress. I am your willing slave.'

'Stand up. Go next door. You will recognise the room. Strip and await me. On your knees.'

'Hurry up. I don't enjoy repeating myself.' The menace was clear, and Anne was pointing to a door. Nicole had not expected this rejection. If it was rejection, she wasn't sure. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting. She stood, and headed through the indicated door, into the old stable room. It shut behind her, closing heavily. The pale sunlight filtered through the small barred window, high on the wall, giving a soft, cold light.

She pulled off the pyjamas, folding them carefully. She wasn't sure why, but it seemed the right thing to do. Feeling the chill of the air on her skin, she knelt. She wasn't sure what to do with her arms. Guessing, she crossed her wrists at the small of her back as she had done before. The feeling of exposure was overwhelming. The feel of Anne's whip was a fresh memory. She was not looking forward to another whipping. She felt open, remembering the feeling of the intruder in her behind. That had been the first time that she had ever had anything here. Those parts of 'The Story of O' had always horrified her and aroused her in equal measures. It wasn't just the sort of thing that nice girls didn't do. It was just too depraved. None of her friends had ever talked about it. She couldn't even remember Anne mentioning it. But it had felt exquisite; the mix of pleasure with just the smallest twinge of pain. Still she waited.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't even hear Anne's return. She didn't know how long she had waited. It felt like hours that she had knelt on the cold stone floor. The blood was pounding in her ears, and her arms and thighs ached.

'What am I going to do with you?' Anne's voice cut through the air.

Nicole did not know how to respond. She hoped the question was rhetorical.

'Putting it another way, do you know what I am going to do to you?'

'No, Mistress.' She really didn't know. She couldn't guess. She could think of some possibilities, but they were all too terrible to contemplate, but too delicious to ignore. She craved the pain, the humiliation that she feared. She shuddered, not daring to turn her head.

'That is good.' Anne recognised the discomfort of her squirming captive. 'We must retain some mystery.'

'Keep your back straight and close your eyes. Chin up. Do I have to keep reminding you? Take pride in your submission.'

Nicole felt soft cloth over her face. The blindfold was black velvet, soft and heavy. It was cut to the shape of her face, covering the eyes securely and letting no light through. Anne pulled it snug, then knotted it securely. To Nicole, it suddenly seemed that her helplessness was infinitely more complete. Her breathing became faster.

Anne walked round in front her kneeling friend. She crouched down, her face inches from Nicole's. She raised her right hand to stroke Nicole's cheek, murmuring softly, almost inaudibly. 'Calm, calm.' Then the left hand too, holding Nicole's face firmly but gently, kissing her lips, probing gently into her mouth with her tongue. The hands felt different, the touch soft and warm, but the texture was og fabric, not skin. She must have put on gloves. Small whimpers grew in Nicole's throat, noises of arousal. The feel of gloved hands on the tender skin of her neck, moving down to her breasts. Then nothing.

Anne picked up the dog lead she had used before, snapping it to the ring on Nicole's collar. Gripping the lead firmly, close to the collar, she tugged sharply down.

'On all fours.' Nicole struggled, blindfolded and slightly off balance, but the pressure on the lead kept her steady.

'Follow me.'

This was the worst yet. It was like being treated as a pet. Anne was keeping her on a close lead, tugging to hurry her if she was slow, or to direct her. From what she could remember of the house, she was being led towards the stairs, or the front door; it could have been either. The cold stone floor became the prickly carpet of the hall. She was not used to experiencing someone's home this way. Then the leash was jerked to the right. It was the stairs. Nicole was very relieved. The carpet was harsh on her knees and hands. The she felt the first step.

'On your belly and crawl up. I want to see you squirm.' Nicole paused, unwilling, but desperate to obey. She felt a gloved hand push down, hard between her shoulders, pressing her chest down to the floor. The tension in the lead still forced up onwards, upwards. Anne preceded her, ensuring that the tension was just enough to guide her captive.

The carpet rubbed at Nicole's body, teasing the delicate skin of her breasts and her stomach. She counted the steps in her head. There were seven to the half landing where she knew the stairs turned back on themselves and then another seven. At the top of the stairs, the lead pulled straight on, onto a warm, polished wooden floor. The change in texture was welcome, but the pressure on the lead was continuous. She knew it was the bedroom.

A sharp tug upwards. 'Stop.'

The sound of a chair being moved across a wooden floor, then set in place.

'On your feet.' Anne helped her friend up, one hand on the leash, holding it where it snapped to the collar, the other half-lifting her from behind. 'You are so good, so beautiful.' she whispered in Nicole's ear. Her hands drifted down, over Nicole's breasts, feeling her hardened nipples, caressing, gently. Anne couldn't help herself. She was becoming very wet. Nicole's reactions were so arousing.

She pushed the chair behind Nicole. 'Sit down.'

It was a high-backed chair, solid wood, cold to the touch. Nicole shivered as she sat. It felt solid, heavy. She felt Anne pull her shoulders back, gently, pressing them against the hard wood of the seat back. Then, her arms were drawn behind her and together, her wrists once again pinioned. Then rope, soft and silky, slowly, deliberately wound around her left ankle, pulling tight as Anne secured it to the leg of the chair. Her right ankle was tied to the right leg of the chair in the same way. More rope was taken around her waist, pulling it tight against the seat back. Then yet more rope was taken around her upper arms, pulling them close together, almost painfully.

Anne stepped back to admire her handiwork. Nicole was helplessly tied to the chair, her legs held open, her back straight. The bonds pulling her arms together forced her shoulders back, lifting her breasts, exposing them. Anne picked up a short, black leather riding crop, using it to stroke the body of her bound and helpless friend.

Nicole was becoming more and more aroused. The sensation of being bound, the loss of control was at once relaxing and terrifying. She did not know what it was she was being tormented with, but her skin, already sensitised by crawling, felt alive. It was slender and hard, harder than a finger. She felt it under the point of her chin, lifting it while Anne's lips and tongue probed her open, willing mouth. Then the kiss ended.

Anne held the crop cross-wise, placing it in her friends open mouth. 'Close your mouth.' Nicole complied, tasting the hard leather covering. Pushed back right to the back of her mouth, the hard leather bit held her mouth open.

'I suggest you keep that in your mouth. It is a riding crop. If you drop it, I will use it on you.'

Nicole tried to swallow. The thought was terrifying. She could only imagine the pain of a hard cropping. She knew that Anne had gone easy with the whip, but that had hurt terribly. Her mouth, though, was held open by the crop, and she found that swallowing was almost impossible. She let out an involuntary noise, part-way between whimper and groan. Anne's hands drifted down to her friends breasts, cupping them, stroking ever so lightly on her nipples. Nicole shook her head wildly, unable to speak, the whimpers and groans becoming wild as she felt herself dissolve into an overpowering level of sensitivity and sensation. Again, it stopped.

'I will not allow you to become overexcited; not yet, at least.' Anne's voice was soft, reassuring, but almost mocking. 'You will have to wait a bit longer for release.'

Nicole could only utter a frustrated groan. Her mouth was dry.

Then the noise of a curtain being drawn back. Nicole tried franticly to remember the layout of the room. She thought it could only be the curtain facing the bed. That meant she was sat at the end of the bed. The noise of other curtains to her right that must have been over the windows. Then the sound of a match striking. The distinctive scent of a candle being lit; then another. The room slowly filled with the scent of vanilla, filling her nostrils with a sweet and heavy perfume.

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