’ ‘What about the stockings and my new basque?’ I asked. ‘Don’t worry, it’s washable. I just love the feel of it all wet and clinging. Try...it, I’m sure you’ll like it. Remember, I own an underwear shop, I have plenty more to choose from for now!’ She took my hand and led me into the shower. ‘Why don’t you kneel down.’ she suggested. I did and she positioned me so that we could both get a good view in the mirror of the action to come. Parting her legs she straddled my left shoulder, one leg. Over the following hour as the author ached in his restrictive bonds, drooling profusely with the rubber ball gag wedged into place, his attacker explained just exactly what was going on. His name was Clint, but he demanded to be referred to at all times as Sir or Master. He had been retained, employed if you will, to take this independent and wealthy young writer traveling under an assumed name, and turn him into an obedient total slave to be used, controlled, and owned by a superior. More

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