Drakes eyes fixed her on the floor. Unable to move she looked on the floor. His eyes wandered over her body. She was kneeling, naked except her heels and her short skirt, on the hard floor. Her hands and legs spread from her body, her knees on the floor, the legs pointing away from her center. Goose bumps all over her skin made her shiver.

Slowly he walked around her, pausing sometimes, admiring her from different angles. He didn't touch her, yet. This just made her more crazy.

She wanted him. Badly. She was almost dripping, in her need. Never before she felt this turned on.

How did she end up on the hardwood floor in this small basement room? Dimly light, warm, about three by five meters and clearly meant for the use of a slave.

For years she knew her submissive side. Stories, porn, chats, forums even a few personals made her way deeper into it. She owned a few things to tie herself down and inflict pain, not too much though. She loved the submissive feelings of submitting to someone, to endure for someone. In her own little sessions she always imagined that someone. When she had a partner to play with they never matched up to her fantasy, not even close. Some were switches, what turned her off so immensely she couldn't believe it. Others just didn't stand up to her needs of a strong person.

Drake was different. Joseph Drake was frequently visiting the restaurant she was working part time as a waitress. The rest of the time she did whatever she wanted, as she inherited a small apartment from an aunt of hers. The job was paying well enough to keep her over water and wasn't so stressful that she thought of quitting. The restaurant was upper class, but not really flashy. So you could see people giving themselves a treat there and the more endowed clientele that frequented it more often.

Every month he was there at least once. Two things she noticed about him.

The first was that almost every time there was another woman with him there, never a man. Some women came with him there two times in a row, others after a while again. Mostly he was there way early, and waited for the women to arrive.

And the second thing was his glance at her. Whenever he looked at her, she felt naked. Often her face flushed and she had to leave his vicinity if she could. He talked like he owned the place, her, the whole world. Not with mockery or glee, but with authority and power. His look, his presence radiated something that made her shiver sometimes. And very horny. It touched a nerve in her needs.

Mostly Drake was preferring the male waiters. It made her think he was gay, but the women indicated otherwise too obviously. He tipped generously, preferred privacy, swift service and sometimes she needed to help with service things to the table. That of all made her most nervous.

That night, Drake was again sitting at the table he preferred. It was in a corner not really popular, more secluded but still standing freely, away from the wall booths. The nights he was there, the corner was staying that way, thanks to generous tips. This night he did something unusual. He followed her with his eyes. He was not a starer, she knew that, and she almost drowned a customer in soup when she got so nervous. He also was smoking, something he almost never did. This went on for over an hour and she thanked god that she was off duty in a few minutes. As she wanted to leave through the back door, she heard one of her colleagues, the guy that was working Drakes table calling her name.

"Bea, wait up!"

She turned and waited impatiently. She wanted to go home. And masturbate.

"What is it Tom", she snapped.

"Wow, easy, don't kill the messenger", he said smiling. "Got something for you, care to see what it is?"

Her curiosity was almost not strong enough to tip the balance, but it did, besides he could bug her for weeks, if she didn't give in.

"Fine, what's this about?"

He led her back to the restaurant, around the buffet, and straight to the table of Drake. She followed him in a trance like state, bored, waiting to go home.

"Mister Drake was requesting a conversation with you, and here you are, have a nice evening Mister Drake", he said, grinned and almost dashed off.

Stunned, she didn't realize at first where she was, her head was spinning from the last hour and now standing there with this practical stranger, made her almost high.

"Sit down please." His calm voice had a commanding tone, but he also sounded a little bored.

She did as told.

"My name is Joseph Drake, but you know that already from Tom and the other very talkative employees of this restaurant. Thankfully only talkative to each other. Of course i also know your name by now Beatrice."

He inhaled his cigarette and looked at her again, after crushing the bud in an ashtray.

"If you wish to leave, this is the right time, i wont be offended, after all i am the one who caused you discomfort tonight, and i wanted to apologize for that. And quiet frankly i wanted to have a chance of having a conversation with you."

His eyes looked questioning at her.

"N... No you didn't make me uncomfortable tonight Mister Drake, there is no need for an apology." Except that you did make me feel sort of uncomfortable and i loved it, she added in her mind.

A small smile went over his features, a shadow of it remaining on his face.

"I am more for the truth. Lies are so discomforting. Why don't you tell me the full truth?"

She swallowed. The lie was minor, she thought, but she didn't really want to tell it, but didn't feel comfortable about the truth.

"You would not like the truth, Mister Drake. And it might endanger my employment here as well."

Again the smile wandered over his face.

"Try me."

Cocky bastard, Beatrice thought. Her hormones were already in overdrive, her body craving the masturbation she had in mind. Her guard usually high on strangers, specially in her workplace, dropped. She relaxed a bit, after all, this was her free time.

"You made me nervous, staring at me like that..."

"Ah. Like what?"

His interest flamed up a bit in his eyes, his tone still in the impossible state of being a bit bored, detached, but in full control.

"Like... like you own this place."

"Well, i don't, but that's not all you thought, is it?"

Now she wriggled her butt in her chair. He knew, she thought. That made her at the same time more aroused, as well as uncomfortable. God, what was wrong with her tonight?

"I thought you looked like you owned this joint, the whole world and...", she gasped for words, but couldn't get herself to say it.

"And what?" he asked, now obviously interested, leaning forward slightly.

"... and me." She wanted to sink into the floor. All she could do is stare at the table. Her head was spinning. What the hell did she just say to this guy?

"Would you like it, if i would own you?" The question hit her like a bag of bricks.

Her heart dropped, her skin crawled and she wanted to whisper yes, but her voice went steady before she answered.

"What if i would?" Good save, not too interested, not too obvious, not too needy.

He slightly tilted his head, then looked around. The restaurant was nearly empty. The three waiters on duty were sitting at a small table next to the kitchen, about six other persons were scattered through the rest of the room. His eyes fixed on hers.

"Then you would have to prove it. Tonight. Now."

The stare went into her again, ripped through her body, turned it inside out, threw it around in the room, exploded into pieces and pieced it together again, after examining every little bit of it, all in the blink of an eye. It was almost like a physical blow and she lowered her eyes.

"Ok. How?"

She did not clearly remember all of it, but somehow they got up, walked for about two minutes and ended up in a small alley, then some stairs down, then this room. He had a key, he was there before. It said "Storage" on the first door, and "Keep Out!" on the door behind that one. The outer one being heavy metal, the inner one heavy wood. In between was barley enough space for two people to stand, without pressing against each other.

The room was small, hard wood. Warm. Some light made it comfortably dark. You could see all, but not have any glare in your eyes.

"Kneel down", his calm voice commanded. His public disinterest was gone. The voice that seemed to talk about the weather if someone would have heard his tone, changed to a voice used to command. And clearly used to get a prompt reaction.

A bit unsure she knelt on the floor, her skirt rising a bit.

"On your heels, spread your knees, more. That's good. Keep our back straight, push your back out a little. Keep your head slightly down, your eyes on the floor." All the instructions sunk in. They felt right and made her aroused.

Slowly he walked around her, his shoes making only marginal sounds as the heels hit the floor. She hears the leather of the shiny tops creak slightly. Her senses pick up many more things, and most of all she feels his sight on her.

"Look at the door", she did. "There is no key from the inside, you have to simply push down the handle. From the outside its locked of course. The outer door works the same. This is not my place, but i can use it at my convenience. So whenever you wish, you can leave through this door. And i wont think bad of you if you do."

He crouched down and lifted her head with a finger, to meet his eyes. Brown dark eyes, that could look into her, she knew.

"Here are the rules. Do not speak unless asked, or given a command. If you need to speak, ask for permission. You can scream all you want or make any noise, this room is soundproof. You call me Sir, not Master. You say 'Yes, Sir' or 'No, Sir' when asked simple questions. When you think you can't take it anymore, you have one way out, your safe word. You call the safe word, i stop instantly and there wont be any more of this tonight, then we talk if you wish. Do you wish me to provide this word or do you have one for yourself?"