Chapter 1: The Start

When the others left she sat with her back to him between his thighs, her head tilted to look up at him as he played with her thick blonde hair. He smiled into her trusting blue eyes. They had been through a lot together and now she worshipped him. It had started when she had been his student in her third year and he had helped her throughout the year, slowly bending her mind to the complexities of romantic fiction and more, to the delights of the gothic romance of the eighteenth and nineteenth century. She had passed with flying colours getting a first.

During the time of instruction she had learnt many things, but she had also learned to love, nay revere this man of letters and at the celebration dinner he gave in her honour she gave her heart and body to him. Not so unusual for a very highly intelligent girl who had spent her time mainly on research, she was very naïve. From the very beginning it had been a true gothic style romance and she had accepted the idea of personal slavery very happily, looking after his needs both domestically and as a lover. The latter slowly progressed to a deep infatuation for and with constraint and bondage and was moving towards masochism.

It had taken many days, each step forward a step towards his complete domination of her. It was a path she had trod willingly, albeit uncertainly at times, especially when his strange moods would leave her frustrated. When he had first suggested she come to live with him, she had been so infatuated that she saw herself as his lover, his housekeeper, his soul mate, sharing long discussions on the subject which so fascinated her, the subject of Gothic imagery and sexual morès.

The very first night had been after her party to celebrate her getting a first. She had drunk quite a lot of wine, had been toasted by all her friends and colleagues and had watched them all leave, in no hurry to return to her digs shared with Rita and Charlene. In fact, Charlene, an American student from her digs had given her a wink and whispered 'Go to it, baby. Good luck!' – she had known Kim's infatuation with her tutor, old enough to be her father.

She felt warm and happy and when they were finally alone and he had whispered that perhaps she should stay the night as it was so late she had turned to him and said simply 'May I? I want to stay forever!'

He had kissed her, that first time. Long lingering kisses and held her close. She felt so happy and hugged him to her. Then he had held her away from him 'You're very beautiful, much too like a witch. That's what you are, a witch. In the seventeenth century they used to put witches on a ducking stool.' he smiled and kissed her again. 'Later, they burnt them at the stake. You are much too good for the stake! What shall we do with you?'

She felt so happy, slightly tipsy but warm in his arms.

'If you stay you will have a forfeit to pay, little witch!' He murmured, his hands smoothing her hair before dropping to her shoulders. 'Are you ready to pay a forfeit, I wonder?' He asked. He slid a palm down over the rise of her breast and back to her neck. She shivered with pleasure, and lowering her head, kissed the back of his hand.

'Well, are you?' he asked, his hand dropping again, this time to cup her breast very gently, his thumb circling her nipple which had risen up hard. Her breathing was shortened as she tried to stay still under his hand.

'Yes.' She breathed.

'You know I do not like arguments. If you stay you must obey me, absolutely.' He spoke very seriously, his eyes studying hers as his hand continued to excite her. She struggled a little in his arms and tried to raise hers, imprisoned within his embrace. He shook his head firmly. 'Stand still.' He said, 'and kiss me.'

Shivering with growing excitement she moved her head to kiss him and opened her lips to his tongue.

'I want to see you' he said and waited, releasing his hold a little. 'My friends have gone now, there's just us. I want to see you, understand?'

'But I've never... '

'Then now is the time. Do you want to stay? Then obey me and let me see you.'

Slowly she unfastened the buttons on her blouse and drew it off her shoulders. He looked at the snow white bra which she had put on new for the party. He looked up at her face, smiled and nodded, still holding her loosely, his hands resting on the swell of her buttocks.

Blushing, she reached behind her and slipped the fastening of her bra, drawing it off her arms. Her nipples were stiff peaks of desire and there were blotches of colour at the slope of her breasts, indicating her excitement. He leant to her and took a nipple in his mouth, nibbling it and then gently biting it. He began to kiss both breasts, for a moment trying to get as much as he could into his mouth.

'You are much too pretty to cover these up. If you want to stay here, you must not wear a bra anymore unless it is front fastening, one I can open easily. I want to think of you always available to me.' He took up the bra and leaning toward the fire, threw the flimsy garment into the flames. She gasped. 'But... '

'No, no buts. You will obey me, yes?'

She looked into his deep blue eyes and felt all her resolve melt. 'Yes' she whispered, longing for him to take her. 'Please, can we go to bed?'

That was the start of her introduction into his ways, a slow, certain path of indoctrination into blind obedience. His lovemaking had been wonderful and at first she had been happy to follow his wishes by not wearing underclothes, just longing for the times he would take her and make violent love to her. Then, when they once had friends for dinner she decided she felt too uncomfortable to be without any protection. This was because the man coming was one of those who liked to leer at her and mentally undress her, a man she never felt at ease with but one whom John sometimes brought back with him. On this occasion she wore briefs. During the meal, John, sitting beside her, had slid his hand up her thigh, something he often did at the table, though never when there were guests, and discovered the thin cloth.

'Why are you wearing pants?' he asked, oblivious to the stares of his friends.

Kim blushed violently. 'John... ' she began, ready to remonstrate.

'Go upstairs, at once. Excuse us' he said to his friends.

Kim ran from the room and he followed her to the bedroom. 'Take them off, ' he shouted as she turned to him.

'But John... '

He grabbed her, threw her onto the bed, pushed up her skirt and pulled off the offending pants. Then, holding her down he started to spank her hard. She cried out and tried to stop him but he ignored her pleas and continued to thrash her. The pain was awful and soon she was crying and begging him to stop.

'I shall go on until you promise to obey me. You said you would but I can't trust you.' His hand continued the torrent.

'Please, John. I'm sorry, I'm sorry' she yelled.

'Do you want me to send Sid up to carry on?' he asked.

'Oh please, no, no no.'

'Will you apologise?'

'You can't make me. Ow! Ow!'

'Well?'

She was snivelling. 'Can't I stay here?' she wheedled.

'Of course not. You must come down and apologise. Wash you face, quickly.'

She rose from the bed and washed her face with cold water. 'What shall I say?'

'Just tell them you are sorry you were wearing knickers. That I don't like you to wear them.'

'But I can't say that. They'll think... '

'Does it matter what they think. It matters what I think and I want you to apologise, understand?'

They returned to the dining room and Kim looked at Sid, who was smirking and at his wife Janet. 'I'm sorry about that.' She glanced at John, then continued hurriedly. 'I was wearing pants and John doesn't like me to.'

'Knickers!' said John.

John doesn't like me to wear knickers' she said, glancing at him and seeing him nod.

Sid grinned. 'I wish I could stop Janet wearing them!' he said.

Janet glowered at him. 'You've never had the nerve to mention it. Still, I don't see why Kim should suffer alone.'

She stood up and reaching under her skirt drew off her panties and handed them to John. 'I'm sure Sid would rather have Kim's.'

'Go and get them, Kim, and give them to Sid, there's a good girl. And give him a kiss as you hand them over, just to show no hard feelings.' said John. 'You shall have these later.'

Kim departed, blushing furiously and soon returned with the pants that she held out to Sid. 'Give him a friendly kiss, Kim, ' said John and grinned when he saw Sid hold her for a moment with a wet probing kiss.

The dinner party broke up soon after and telling Kim to leave the table to be cleared in the morning he took her to bed. He took the pants that Janet had discarded, rolled them into a ball and made Kim put them in her mouth while they made love and they had the most violent and exciting sex that she ever remembered. That was the start of her full education, the start of her spanking that soon became an almost nightly forerunner to their lovemaking. Sid and Janet became fairly regular dinner guests and slowly Kim became used to the probing kisses and wandering hands of the cockney tutor whenever John was out of the room. She had learnt early on that it was useless to complain and that John expected her to welcome such attentions. If she did complain she would only be beaten yet again and he threatened to let Sid beat her. She and Janet became friends and she soon discovered that Janet had come to terms with Sid's interests with other women and had stopped caring. She told Kim that if Kim wanted, she could have Sid anytime. Of course, Kim did not want!

That night she told John what Janet had said, curious to see his reaction. It was not what she had expected. 'Sid is a jerk and doesn't deserve a woman like Janet, and certainly not a girl like you.'

'But I thought you wanted me to like him.' she said.

'My darling child. You just don't understand, do you? I want to see you lusted after by other men. It makes you even more desirable to me. To have a girl admired by all your friends, a girl they would like to bed, well that's the best feeling for a man who wants his girl to look beautiful and desirable. I like men to look at you. I like men to want you and I like even more the feelings of insecurity it brings to you when they show their desire. That does not mean I have to like the men. It does not mean you have to like the men either!'

'But that's cruel, ' she complained.

'Of course it isn't. Just imagine how excited you felt when I made you apologise to Sid. See what it did for Janet who took off her knickers - you made her night too!' He laughed 'Yes, and that made ours too. Have you still got them?'

She knew what he meant and nodded. 'Shall I give them back?'

'Do you want to? Who would you give them to, eh? No, keep them as a keepsake. If ever I lend you to Sid you can wear them and then tell him you were bringing them home.'

'Lend me ... you wouldn't!' she paused as he smiled. 'Would you?'

He laughed outright and took her in his arms. 'Of course not, not to Sid. I told you, I think he's a cretin'

She shivered in his arms and thought 'not to Sid' - could that mean what she thought it might mean. She tried not to think about it.

'What about Frank?' he asked. Frank was a biology lecturer whom John had recently invited to dinner, a tall, dark featured man with very long thin fingers. 'Frank thought you were wonderful. Did you like it when he admired you?'

She thought about Frank who had quite simply stared at her with open admiration. As usual for their dinner parties she wore a rather short skirt and frilly blouse with the low neckline that John preferred; quite different from the slacks and sweaters she had been used to wearing and still wore in the town. She had to admit that Frank was attractive and she had not minded his sincere appraisal, it had none of the rather slithery overtones of the salivating Sid.

'He made me think of him dissecting me like a frog.' she giggled. 'The way he looked at me - it was as though he was wondering if I was the right specimen. I expect that's because you told me he was a biologist.'

John burst out laughing. 'Oh, I shall have to tell him that. How delightful' He hugged her closer. 'I shan't tell him that you don't wear any undies. You can tell that yourself!' He laughed again at her obvious distress and hugged her anew. 'I told you I loved it when you blushed. You'll have to think of a way of telling him, a way that sounds natural, not easy to one used to making dissections, I suppose, just one less layer of epidermis to get through, eh? I tell you what, lets suggest a dinner party. Its time I took you out and I owe Frank a favour. I'll book a table at the Curzon. How about that? We'll have to think of something for you to wear. A frog!!' he laughed again and then, releasing her picked up a sketch pad and sat down.

He had this marvellous ability to sketch objects so vividly that they almost seemed to crawl off the page with their own dynamism. He illustrated his stories about gothic torture systems and his victims could almost be heard screeching from the drawing, so realistic were they. He worked very quickly and Kim saw him draw the outlines of a dress, knee length on an effigy of herself - she recognised that at once - and proceeded to embellish it with a myriad small buttons, first down the front and then, as an afterthought, across each bosom. He torn off the sketch and put it in his wallet before taking her off to bed.

The next day Kim called at her old digs to collect any mail and later John found her reading a letter. 'It's from my Aunt's nurse. She's writing to remind me that it's Margaret's birthday in a fortnight and would I be going up. Of course I hadn't forgotten but there isn't much point in travelling all that way. She doesn't know who I am anymore.'

'Tell me about her' said John and she explained that it was her mother's older sister. "After Mother died, Dad and I moved into Aunt Margaret's house. I would have been about seven. Dad wasn't well either and his old batman had come to live with us and look after him. Our own house wasn't really big enough for me, Dad and Charlie, the batman so Auntie, who had a large house, invited us to move in. After Dad died she and I lived there alone until I came to uni. Then later she started to suffer from Alzheimer's and we had a nurse move in to look after her.'

'Who pays for her nursing? Surely you can't?'

'Oh no. She has money of her own. I suppose I ought to go up but I can't see that it would do any good.' Kim looked at John for guidance, John who reminded her so clearly of her late father.

'Where does she live?' He asked.

'In Yorkshire. I always think of the county as being cold. It must have been all that grey stone in the buildings, that and the dry stone walls.'

'Well if it's in a fortnight I don't think you'll be free. I have some plans for you! And no, I won't tell you yet, you'll have to wait and see. But write and say you have an appointment and send something nice. Give me the address and I'll arrange to have some flowers sent with your name on. How about that?'

That night in bed he asked her about her family. 'I lost my mother when I was seven. She had breast cancer but luckily for her, it was all over quickly. After that I lived with my father and Aunt but he got M.S. when I was thirteen. At first I could look after him but when that became impossible he remembered his old batman, Charlie.' She snuggled up to John, happy in the warmth of his embrace as she relived the past.

'Charlie was a few years younger than Dad but he was glad of a job and we employed him as a handyman and housekeeper. He was used to dad. They were used to each other and after Dad had gone to bed Charlie used to tell me war stories about Korea, of how dad had been so brave he had won the MC.' She paused to consider the past. 'Apparently their platoon was bogged down under an enemy machine gun post and they couldn't move forward. Dad spoke to his men, made a plan and then crept in the dark to a point above the enemy dug out. He had been a scout as a boy and had learnt how to move silently in the dark. He found their lookout and Charlie said he 'neutralised him' which meant, I suppose, that he killed him. Then dad found an old tree that was above their bunker and he managed to climb it unheard. He pulled the pin thing out of a grenade and waited until the last minute and then dropped it into the bunker. Charlie said that when they heard the explosion the men ran up the hill and finished of the two men left. They found Dad still in the tree. A piece of shrapnel from the grenade had come up and cut his head and he was unconscious. Charlie lifted him down and carried him back to the first aid post. He reckoned that may have been why Dad got M.S. later in life. My father felt he owed his life to Charlie 'cos the rest of the platoon were killed when the enemy came back at them...

John looked at her as she stayed locked in the past. 'Go on. Tell me about Charlie?' He had noticed that when she mentioned the name she had stumbled a couple of times.

You don't want to know any more!' she said. 'Dad died when I was sixteen, and Charlie went then, too.'

John would not let go. 'And Charlie, did you like him?'

There was a long pause. 'Yes – no, please don't ask any more. When my father died my aunt said that I should stay with her. She was well then, so Charlie went and I began to work hard at school, I had to do something to fill the void and I soon became interested in early history – the stories Dad told me ... My Aunt is my only living relative.

'If I could find Sam, would you like to see him again?' he asked, but she shook her head and kissed him.

A fortnight later, there was a parcel waiting for her when she got home. On opening it she found a wonderful green silk dress, a copy of the dress that John had so quickly drawn. It was magnificent, covered with the little green buttons she had seen on the drawing and literally covered with yards of braid sewn on to look like folds and creases. It was a very dark green but parts were slightly bleached to give a warmer appearance. The whole thing looked alive. Then the phone rang and it was John.

'Has it arrived?' he asked. 'Put it on and then ring me back to say if it fits. There are stockings, a belt and gloves to go with it.' He rang off so she took the box into the bedroom and after first stripping off her outdoor working clothes, took a shower and then returned to the dress. It was very heavy and hung beautifully. It must have cost a fortune, not only in materials but also in the immense amount of work that must have gone into making it. Kim had once known an outworker for a Mayfair shop whose job it was to sew sequins onto a ball gown and she knew how long it took to make such pieces up. That woman had played the Mandolin when she needed a break from the long hours of sewing, and as Kim modelled the dress it was as though she could hear again the tones of that Mandolin.

The strips and swirls of braid had the effect of looking like creases and folds. The neck was very high with a choker collar and the flaps over the bosom, when unbuttoned were fitted with gussets so that although the breast would be bared, it would be surrounded by silk cloth both below and on the sides. It looked most erotic as she viewed herself in the mirror. The accessories were also green. She rang John.