Chapter 9 : Second Meeting

George's second summons came only two days later when a peremptory email appeared on his computer. "You have an appointment with me this evening at seven o'clock for one hour. Erica," it said.

He had an appointment with Allison Callow at six o'clock and he had to rather rush through things in order to be ready to leave by half past. "I wondered if you might like a drink?" said Allison. "It is such a nice evening and the garden of the pub by the river will be lovely."

"Ah, well, sorry, no," stammered George. "You see I have another, well, it's another,..."

"That's all right," said Allison, clearly disappointed. "Perhaps, some other time?"

"Err, why not?" said George looking at his watch and convincing Allison that it was most unlikely. "Look, sorry, got to dash. Got another meeting."

He was ushering Allison out when she suddenly said, "You do the accounts for Erica Wilkie, don't you?" If she had asked about any of his other clients, George would have thought nothing of it but the mention of Erica's name caused intense feelings of guilt. Blushing, he admitted that he did. "It's just that I wondered what her services were like. I wondered if I might find some therapy useful after all the trouble last year, with my husband leaving and everything."

"Oh," said George. "Well, I don't know. I'm not sure if that's really the sort of thing she deals with, I mean I don't know but that doesn't sound like her sort of thing. I mean you could ask her. Probably the best idea but not her sort of area of expertise, I would guess." George was conscious that he was babbling on and that time was drifting by. "I really have to go," he said, following Allison out.

"Yes," said Alison, "yes, of course. Well, I'm sorry to have bothered you. Good evening Mr Franks."

George breathed a sigh of relief and headed off towards Erica's.

Hoping for another opportunity to worship at Erica's feet, George presented himself promptly. The Erica that confronted him on his arrival this time though was not the feminine, simply dressed woman of their last meeting but a rubber-clad, fetish goddess.

"Don't think I have this on for your benefit, slave," she snapped, scowling through her mask as she saw George's appreciative look.

"No, Mistress," George responded quickly, bowing his head and dropping his eyes to the floor as he had been instructed.

"Good," said Erica, striding up and down in front of him. All George could see of her was the foot of her high heeled boots as she went back and forth. "Right. You have one choice to make this evening. Stick or paddle?"

"Stick or paddle for what?" George was puzzled.

"Just make a choice!" Erica snapped. "Don't ask questions."

"Err, paddle?" said George.

"Very well," Erica replied. Stand over there by the staircase facing it. Reach up and grab the stair rail." George did so. A moment later Erica was fastening cuffs around his wrists to hold him strapped to the stair rail, arms stretched up above his head. "We don't have much time," Erica went on, "but we can introduce you to the idea of bondage. And," she said, "the value of a gag."