Chapter 2

Following her experiences that eventful Friday night, life for Carol Hargreaves settled back down to the usual daily grind of looking after the kids, keeping the flat tidy and work... there was always the dammed job that she couldn't survive without at Duncan Ellis Cleaning. Only now it was more than a necessary evil for she had a real sense of foreboding every time she had the misfortune to meet up with her immediate superior, Steve Finchley. Assistant Manager Finchley - the bastard who'd blackmailed her into posing for explicit and obscene photographs before he'd then had the audacity to tell her that he was going to sell them to a "men's magazine".

However, over a fortnight had passed since the night of the shoot and, while Steve had smirked or leered at her on several occasions, he'd not stepped out of line with her. Until this evening when, as she'd climbed into the firm's beat up Transit, Steve had squeezed her thigh rather maliciously with his hand and said, "Don't plan for an early night, bitch. You've got a little overtime to do." Carol's heart sank upon hearing this... and then sank even further as Steve went on to suggest that she look in the van's glove compartment. Almost knowing what to expect, Carol did as she was told and there, just as she feared, was a set of glossy black and white photographs. With a morbid fascination, Carol looked at the images of herself, tied to a bed with all her most intimate parts on view. She gagged and forced the pictures back from where they came before slamming the lid shut. Steve laughed uproariously at her reaction and, crashing the gears, he pulled away and out into the traffic.

Carol couldn't settle down to her work and she found her mind constantly wandering. Every few moments, she caught herself glancing at whichever wall clock she see and each time she did this, the hands hardly seemed to have moved on from the previous occurrence yet, conversely, it barely seemed more than a hour or so before Steve returned to collect her.

As Carol clambered back into the Transit, she was surprised to discover Brenda, one of the other cleaning girls, sitting in the middle seat. Carol was even more shocked to spot that Brenda's jeans and panties were rumpled about her ankles and that the other girl was already gagged with her arms positioned behind her back hinting to the possibility that her wrists were tied. Steve climbed into the other side and said, "Don't stand there like that, Carol, there ain't no flies about this time of night Get your arse in and shut the door. Brenda here's been a naughty girl and needs to be shown the error of her ways."

Hardly taking her eyes off the blonde beside her, Carol did as she was ordered and watched morbid fascination as Brenda flinched and cringed as Steve inserted the forefinger of his left-hand into the woman's pussy. "You're not going to say 'no' again, are you, sweetheart?" he asked the tearful girl who then shook her head. "Good girl," smiled Steve as he removed his hand and returned it to the wheel. Carol torn her eyes away and started staring out of the side window, to embarrassed to look Brenda in the face.

It wasn't long before the spluttering white van pulled into the familiar yard and Steve killed the engine. "Be a good girl. Carol, and remove Brenda's jeans and knickers," instructed the girl's tormentor. "So she can walk unaided... or. perhaps you'd rather carry the lazy cow?"

Carol shook her head and, after climbing out of the van, she leaned back inside and, her body now at floor level, eased Brenda's shoes off followed by the woman's clothing. Just as Carol was about to help Brenda get her shoes back on, she froze as Steve started to run his hands over her arse. "Don't stop now, bitch," he commented, "I've got a deadline to keep."

Swallowing hard, Carol managed to get the first shoe on just as Steve undid the button at the top of her own jeans. Next thing the mother of two knew. she felt her zip being undone right to the bottom. Guessing what was about to happen and frantically wishing to avoid having Steve's podgy, sweaty hand down her knickers, she half turned to him and suggested that, if he really did have a deadline, they'd best get on with things.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Steve responded as he reluctantly withdrew his digits. "Right - get inside, you sluts!"

Inside the lock-up things were much as Carol remembered them; as she looked around and while Steve flicked on more lights and Brenda sobbed quietly to herself, she wondered what the pervert wanted to shoot this time. She didn't have to wait long.

"Good news, girls," Steve beamed at them, "we've got a commission - my first. I get extra money for a commission... and if I get extra, so do you. Isn't that good news, sluts?"

Brenda only sobbed louder and Carol could just about manage a brief nod of her head.

"I said 'Isn't that good news, sluts, '" screamed Steve angrily, bringing his fist down sharply on a table top.

"Yes, Master, it's terrific news," called out Carol while Brenda nodded her head frantically, her voice still silenced by the gag wrapped covering her mouth.

"Good. Now, let's get things organised shall we? We all know that Carol's in a rush to get home, aren't you? And as for you, Brenda... just remember that happens to those letters if you don't do as you're told. Here's the scene - Carol, you're going to be a dyke dom while Brenda's your subby..."

"Excuse me, Master... but I don't know exactly what you're talking about. You want me to be a lesbian what?"

Steve looked at Carol in disbelief. "You taking the piss, slag?"

"No." responded the clearly befuddled woman. "I've led a pretty sheltered life."

"It doesn't matter. You'll just have to pick it up as we go along. Brenda, I'm going to untie your arms then you're going to get stripped off. Carol - come here. You're going to get changed..."

Some time later, Carol found herself dressed in what she considered to be a most outlandish fashion. Everything she had been provided with was black in colour and made of a artificial material that tried it's best to look like leather. Adorning this was a selection of clips and chains and belts constructed in a cheap, silvery metal. Starting at the bottom, Carol's feet and legs were encased in thigh high boots that sported ridiculously high. thin heels. Then came a short gap of bare flesh before a basque that was almost normal apart from the two largish holes that her boobs were exposed to the world through. On her arms she wore long gloves that extended over her elbows but worst, by far, was the balaclava type mask that covered her head; in the front of this was cut an open slit for her mouth and two eyes holes while at the rear, her hair had been roughly pulled by Steve into a ponytail and hauled out through a fourth opening. Getting this just right had taken sometime and had not been without it's share of pain. Despite everything, Carol thought, she'd still rather be dressed as she was than like Brenda who was now totally naked apart from her gag. "At least no one will ever recognise me like this," she thought to herself.

"Right," demanded Steve, "Brenda, kneel on the bed and Carol... hold that whip up."