Chapter 2

In the early evening of the day following her telephone call to store security person Sam, Elizabeth found herself pacing nervously towards a pub in a dreary part of town that she had never previously visited. The trim figured and good looking young woman looked up and down the litter strewn street, pleased that no-one seemed to be taking any notice of her which, she thought, considering the way she was dressed, was a little surprising. Elizabeth glanced down at herself and again took in the micro-mini length, pleated tartan skirt and the thin white blouse she had on and she thanked her lucky stars that it was a pleasant, warm evening. But what concerned her the most was that, apart from her high-heeled shoes, she was wearing nothing else at all! Her generous breasts bounced freely under the thin silk of her blouse, her nipples clearly showing while every time the wind got up, she could feel the breeze playing a game of tag with her pussy lips, a sensation that was totally alien to a well raised young lady like herself - but probably not, she suspected, to some of the other girls who were patrolling the pavement of this south London borough dressed not dissimilarly to herself though they all seemed to be wearing rather too much makeup which marked them out from Elizabeth whose face was an image of understated excellence. Glancing at her watch and recalling Sam's warnings to her not to be late, Elizabeth gathered up her courage and headed toward the pub's entrance only to find her route blocked by a large man who stared at her through drink glazed eyes. "'ow much fer a blow job, sweetie?" he slurred at her, a hand reaching out to feel her breast.

Instinctively Elizabeth pulled back and twisted away from the foul apparition that had appeared before her. "What do you take me for?" she asked scornfully.

"A 'ooker, what else yer dumb fuck," the drunk observed. "And a very pretty one too," he added in a feeble attempt at gallantry.

Looking aghast, Elizabeth informed him that he was mistaken.

"But why yer 'ere, dressed like that, then?" the swaying drunk persisted.

"Because... because... that's a good question... just accept the fact that I'm not a working girl."

Shrugging his shoulders rather unevenly, the drunk wandered away calling back after him, "Your loss, pet..." as he eyed up the other goods on offer, finally picking and then homing in on a young black girl in bright yellow satin hot-pants and a tied off blouse covering her obviously silicon enhanced tits.

Once inside the crowded, smoke filled pub with its deep red faked velvet furnishings Elizabeth forced her way through the throng of mostly male and already inebriated working class drinkers looking for the man she had arranged to meet here. As her eyes scanned the room, her heart pounded wildly, half in excited anticipation, half with a growing apprehension. Spotting the figure that she had come to see, Elizabeth veered towards a little table set in the corner where Sam waited.

"Evening, Liz," he welcomed her, cheerfully enough from his position on a comfortable looking bench set behind the table. Nodding to a small stool beside him, Sam told her to sit. After she had done so, Elizabeth found that the stool was really low and that, to save her modesty, she had to tuck her feet well under her. "Now, now, Liz, that's not the way of it at all. Feet to the front, knees up and apart."

The girl beside him looked aghast, her eyes darting from side to side as she took in just how busy the room was, how full of rough and common men. "What? But... I'm not... I mean, I did what you said... I've..." and she lowered her voice, glanced about her again and leaned towards Sam before continuing quietly, "I've got nothing on under this skirt..."

"Believe me, girl, you'd have been in trouble if you weren't naked under that skirt," Sam responded in a voice deliberately raised so as to be loud enough for the men standing nearest to Elizabeth to hear. "Now, feet to the front, knees up and apart - I won't tell you again."

Blushing and with eyes lowered, Elizabeth did as she had been bidden and, as she did so, she could hear the nearby level of conversation drop as the men took to looking up her skirt towards her displayed pussy before the volume increased again along with the odd chuckle and ribald comment thrown in her direction. Sam smiled contentedly, took a sip of his beer and then, leaning forward, pushed the hem of Elizabeth's skirt another inch or so inches up her thighs just to give his fellow drinkers an even better view of what 'his' woman had to offer. "So, what do you want of me, Liz?" he asked her conversationally enough.

"I'm not to sure," she honestly replied, still conscious of the display that she was putting on for the audience. "I just know that... that I enjoyed... how you made me feel the last time we met... And I'm still... sort of enjoying what you are doing to me now. I'm embarrassed, ashamed... and yet excited too."

Sam chuckled knowingly. "Go on."

"Well, I shouldn't be, of course, but..." with that the woman's voice trailed away into silence.

"So, you found the way I made you do things... sexually stimulating as well as mentally exciting?" Elizabeth nodded. "Hhhhmmm... I thought so," Sam went only half to himself and half to her. "I do believe, Liz, that you are a subbie."

"A what?" asked the puzzled girl.

"A subbie... a submissive." Seeing that the woman before him was still confused, Sam gave her a brief introduction of the world of BDSM, explaining how some people were naturally Domineering while others submissive. "Both side get pleasure and satisfaction from the arrangement, Liz, and yet many people don't realise what goes on in our lifestyle at all. You recall Mabel?"

Elizabeth nodded, remembering the older female security officer from the store where she had first encountered Sam; she also recalled the rather odd manner that Mabel had displayed during the meeting.

"She's also a submissive... she's my submissive," smiled Sam. "And I think that you might well become my second. Would you like that?"

"I'm not sure, Sam," she replied hesitantly. "I think that I might..."

Sam glanced at the girl's large and inviting breasts straining against the thin material of her blouse, nipples proudly erect signifying her arousal as she both considered these new ideas that Sam was telling her about and, at the same time, felt the eyes of the hungry men looking up her skirt at her exposed cunt. "I'm sure you will, Liz, I'm sure you will. But the first rule is that you have to call me Master from now on."

"Master? Master what?"

"Master nothing, Liz. Simply Master. You must never use my name again in my presence, do you understand?"

"But... but won't everyone who hears me... think it's a little odd?"

"Maybe, but that's their problem. What you really meant was that you're not sure how you'd feel about them hearing you call me Master, isn't it?"

Looking guilty, Elizabeth agreed that it was.

"But isn't that the point of the exercise, Liz? To make you feel embarrassed and humiliated? Then you can get your kicks... just as I will take my pleasure in making you do these things that will cause you to suffer the pangs of utter humiliation. I enjoy having power over others. It's the natural order, really, in that the strong should make the decisions for the less strong. In time you will have a very quiet and easy life with me telling you everything from what to wear, to what to think, to what to eat, to who to have sex with. I'll even tell you if you can go to the toilet and when. But that's all in the future; for now just practice - call me Master..."

Elizabeth swallowed, glanced about her and then, with a blush already rising in her cheeks, replied, "Yes, Master."

It was only early and the sun was still just hovering above the horizon as Elizabeth obediently followed her Master through the streets, always staying just one pace behind him, as the pair headed towards the local shopping precinct. Elizabeth wasn't too concerned about their trip together until Sam turned into a side street then slowed down outside a rather run down looking establishment with windows sporting an old and rather tired display of flimsy women's underwear - if most of it could be graced by that name since it was all rather small and transparent and mostly either red or black in colour. Looking up, Elizabeth read the name of the shop and blushed. "We're not going in there are we, Sam?"