Chapter 1

“Yes?” says the female voice on the other end of the phone as soon as my call is connected.

“Um ... Hello. Is that Mistress Penelope?” I ask.

“You rang my personal number, so why do you need to ask, Sally?” she replies.

“Um ... Sorry ... Mistress ... How did you know it was me?”

“Firstly you’ve called me at the time I specified. And secondly, you begin every sentence with ‘Um’,” she replies. “I like punctuality, but we need to cure you of your bad habit of ‘umming’.”

“Um ... Sorry ... Mistress,” I reply feeling slightly embarrassed at doing the very thing she said I wasn’t to do.

“Don’t worry about it now. It’s something we can work on. You said Trammers were closing at the end of next week. Have you found a new job yet?”

“No, Mistress. I haven’t had time to look properly.”

“I’m not interested in excuses. When is your next day off?”

“Um ... Tomorrow.”

“Then meet me at my workshop at 9:30 tomorrow morning.”

Mistress Penelope gives me the address of her workshop and ends our call. I had planned on looking for a job tomorrow morning, but my curiosity is roused enough to postpone my plans so that I can meet with Mistress Penelope. It never occurs to me that I could refuse to meet with her tomorrow.

The address she gave me is a red brick building on a street with a mixture of older houses and light industry. It’s an odd place for Mistress Penelope to have her workshop, and I begin to doubt that I’ve written the address down correctly. The workshop seems to be locked up and uninhabited, but I knock on the smaller of the two doors anyway. The door opens after a few seconds, and Mistress Penelope ushers me inside.

The inside of the workshop is at complete odds with the slightly scruffy exterior. The spotlessly clean large room has been converted into what looks like a play-dungeon. Calling it a workshop is a misnomer. It’s like something I’ve only imagined in my more erotic fantasies. Despite my non-existent experience with this type of equipment, can envisage the sorts of kinky stuff that could go on in here.

“Go through to the office, Sally,” says Mistress Penelope.

I do as she instructs. The office consists of a small desk and chair in one corner and a large leather couch taking up the length of one wall. I hesitate to sit down, feeling a confusing mixture of nervousness and arousal.

“Take off your jacket and hang it on the hook behind the door,” says Mistress Penelope.

I obey. I straighten my blouse and jeans for no reason other than I want to look smart for her.

“Hmm. You’re pretty enough, I suppose. But there are some improvements we need to make if you are going to be my assistant.”

“Um ... Sorry, Mistress ... Did you say that you want me to be your assistant?”