The Interview

We were in a different room this time. Different room and different floor and neither displayed that opulent grandeur that had characterised the old hotel in its heyday. That ambience I learned later was retained solely on the first floor or second if you came from the states. As usual, when I told the smartly suited girl on reception who I wished to visit, a youthful brass-buttoned hall porter was immediately summoned to escort me upstairs to the third floor.

I only half noticed the different floor as he pressed the lift button, but it didn't fully register. I was looking at the three gleaming brass buttons on his jacket cuff and then the double row running up his chest. A smart ‘buttons’ fit more for the stage in a Cinderella Christmas pantomime rather than a modern hotel. 

I wondered if those buttons were really pure brass or, more likely, a modern equivalent made of some cheaper but permanently shiny material. Even the military I knew had long abandoned brass buttons and all the palaver that went with them. Button sticks, dusters and tins of metal polish!

I only realised when he knocked respectfully on a door and then opened it in response to the reply that I did not recognise my surroundings so absorbed had I been in my idle thoughts upon the accoutrements of uniform fastenings.

I smiled and sat down in the usual chair assigned to me by a languid wave of her hand and accepted the proffered cup of coffee with a nod of thanks as I looked about the room—a far more modern room than I’d been received in previously. A bedroom by the look of the twin headboards and lamps mounted to one wall but minus the beds that would usually have stood there.

A much smaller room with two internal doors, one closed and one open. I guessed the closed one lead to an en-suite bathroom and the other, probably to an adjoining bedroom, the sort of set up they would presumably use for a family with a couple of kids. All the usual furniture had been removed except for a small widescreen TV mounted to one wall. The familiar looking replacements had evidently been brought up from her regular and more spacious quarters.

“My apologies”, she confirmed, waving her hand to sweep the room. “They are renovating my usual floor, replacing plumbing and electrics and some fresh décor, so they told me. They did assure me that beyond that, they will not be making more substantial alterations such as they have done to most of the building.”

I looked around me. “Pretty bog-standard for a hotel room, even an expensive one these days”, I observed.

“Precisely”, she sniffed. “If you need to use the bathroom, please feel free to use that one over there. Have a close look at the so-called marble fittings while you're in there!”

I grinned. “Okay, ma’am, but I think I’ll be alright.”

She made a face then smiled. “The manager here is charming, “He did suggest a couple of suitable alternative hotels with suites, not that he wished to lose my custom, but he does know all my little predilections!” she paused and laughed. “Well, perhaps by no means all but those pertinent to my accommodation preferences”.

I eyed her thoughtfully for a moment. “Maybe it's me, but I don’t get the impression that you are all that fussy, or am I completely mistaken? I seem to have a recollection of a huge bacon sandwich and a working man's greasy spoon café?”

“Very astute!” she smiled. “Now you’ve reminded me I think I might even go back there for breakfast tomorrow morning.” She glanced around the room. “It's hardly roughing it is it and far more preferable to staying in a strange place. I’ll be the first to admit that ‘the imperious  ancient Queen of Sheba act’ is a bit of a sham, but I’m also ninety-nine point nine per cent sure the manager knows that as well!” she chuckled and added. “Anyway, it was very good of them to go to all this trouble of creating a suite for me. That’s where I do draw the line, I’m afraid. I just can’t abide trying to live for a few days in the confines of a single hotel bedroom!”

I grinned and nodded and took a sip of my coffee.

“No cakes”, she suddenly exclaimed. “Would you like me to order some?”

“No thanks, I’m fine”. I carefully placed the cup gently back on its saucer, sat back and looked at her expectantly.

Her eyes met mine, and it was her time to nod. “Perhaps I should apologise. I seem to be drawing this out somewhat, don’t I? You’ve been very patient with this senile old lady while she prattles on about hotel rooms and cakes and so forth  rather than knuckling down and  getting to the meat of the main course!”

“Hardly senile ma’am, and as for the rest, merely a little sauce that will, I’m sure, enhance the flavour of said meat!”

“Hmmm, well, high time for a bit of steak, I think before you get too bored!”

I smiled. “Well, tenderised rump steak, I presume?!

“Hush yourself!” she laughed, raising a finger. “Now where was I, no? Don’t tell me, please” She paused silently for a few seconds, then her eyes brightened in triumph. “Ah, yes, poor Malcolm, my young American visitor destined to become the bridge across my personal Rubicon. My first steps upon a journey from which there could be no return, no turning back, ever!”

I raised my hand a little like a hesitant school pupil reluctant to disturb an enthusiastic teacher in mid-flow with an urgent question.  Not unexpectedly, her response was the same.

“Yes?” was that tetchy response.

“Sorry”, I quickly apologised, “just out of curiosity before I forget, was there ever a point where you hesitated or later came to regret crossing that bridge?”

“The answer to that question is no and no!” her response was immediate and precise. “We would not be sitting here now; I fancy were there any other answer.” Then she paused and frowned. “Well, on second thoughts, perhaps that is a pertinent question. I have already told you about the feelings I had after my first and second meetings with young Celine, have I not?”

I nodded.

“No, no, I can’t remember being hesitant,” she said quietly, still thinking and then gave a quiet laugh. “Nor did I have a single regretful thought once I’d committed a dozen or so serious offences upon my first victim. Looking back, regret was never something that was going to give me neck strain!”

“Or a guilty conscience”, I added.

“Ah now”, her finger wagged again. “That is a slightly different kettle of fish” she paused and pulled a face. “Maybe I’ll talk about that, maybe not. Not exactly regrets, not as you meant it, but..” Her voice trailed off, then she gave a little shake and composed herself anew. 

“Perhaps I’ll tell you about some things, and perhaps I won’t. That will depend on my mood and whether I think it is pertinent. My life has not, in many respects, been the least bit conventional. Some would regard me with absolute loathing, with horror and no doubt disbelief.” She paused and nodded in the direction of the window. “Just about everyone out there, I suspect. I watched a documentary the other night about those dreadful concentration camps in Nazi Germany. I dare say people would equate me no differently  to the monsters who ran those dreadful places!”

Her lips abruptly clamped closed into a tight-lipped line in her face, and I sensed a sudden change of mood, a reticence about her. The comparison she had just made clearly disturbed her despite anything she had said previously.

“Hardly the same “, I interjected quickly. “I mean, at least I would assume that for one thing, the welfare of those you housed at your establishment was of prime importance!” 

“Establishment!” she grunted with a degree of amusement I was relieved to see. “Well, that’s the first time that I’ve heard my little empire described as an ‘Establishment!’ Sounds like some institutions headquarters! Stables, kennels, farm, country retreat and so forth but est-ab-lish-ment!” she chuckled, savouring the word as she dissected it.

I was relieved to see that the brief black moment had passed and that her customary good humour restored. I waited expectantly as she was enjoying herself, possibly running the word I’d used through her mind, doubtlessly comparing it to the place she’d practised her unusual occupation.

“Well,” she conceded, “I suppose in one sense or perhaps two my establishment, as you put it was not dissimilar to places of confinement and torment for the inmates.” She grinned. “No blatantly obvious high barbed-wire fences, though nor any watchtowers and not a single machine gun anywhere to be seen, and” she paused and suddenly laughed, “ not the slightest chance of escape nor release, not ever! No time off for good behaviour, no parole and no visitors!” she paused and corrected herself. “Leastways, not ones who are the least bit concerned with the inmate's welfare!

Your observation was correct. No one has ever staved; indeed, we ensure that they receive a very healthy diet. Admittedly monotonous and not very appetising but undoubtedly healthy. Nor did they ever want for medical treatment; keeping my animals fit and in tip-top condition was and is an essential daily preoccupation, bar the regular minor discomforts one is obliged to apply to their recalcitrant hides, of course!”

“Healthy but not happy!” I quipped, but she merely shrugged indifferently. 

“Back, I think,” she said firmly, “to London many years ago. A rather grey and damp day if my failing memory is not mistaken. I’d popped to the local shop in the morning and then later realised I’d forgotten,” she paused and laughed. “well, I seem to have forgotten what it was I’d forgotten, milk probably and had to dash out and get wet again. The phone was ringing faintly when I returned and was struggling with the lock—trying to balance an armful of shopping and use my key at the same time! I missed it, of course, but fortunately, it rang again a couple of minutes later. Fortunate for me but extremely unfortunate for the young man in an airport phone booth.”

She leaned forward to pick up the coffee pot and beckoned to me to present my cup. I dutifully did so, then she re-filled her own, absently lifted the lid to check the contents, then gently placed it back on the table. 

“You recall me telling you about the list Celine had given me. Her most immediate requirements as it were?”

I nodded as I took a sip of coffee. “As I recall, you had cross-referenced your inventory of likely candidates against her shopping list and come up well short!”

“Precisely. Now, if that young lady had wanted a bushel of paunchy, balding, out of condition, middle-aged men, I could have sent her a truckload.  Whereas laying my hands upon just one young, fit, straight,  good looking young man whose disappearance would arise no comeback was something of a challenge. Point of fact, I didn’t even have one whose disappearance would have caused a fuss!”

“Could you have done the same with one  of your many paunchy clients had something similar been on that list?” I asked, then immediately apologised. “Sorry, I was thinking aloud there, and it sort of came out!”

She frowned partly at me and partly at my inadvertent question. “Well, there was no shortage of them, and I did know a little about most of them, the regulars anyway. If I’d put my mind to it, perhaps I could have arranged something. I was still a complete novice back then, you must remember, but Celine had in passing mentioned something about ‘professional collection and delivery’ contacts. Somewhat shady and decidedly dangerous people I was to have numerous dealings with in the future. Given their specialised expertise, and it is specialised, I’m sure something could have been arranged.” She mused, then stopped and slapped her left wrist lightly with the palm of her right hand.

“No, that’s naughty. I’d better not elaborate too much along those lines. I agreed to talk about my operation and my life. I think, better for both of us if I stuck to that, safer certainly for both of us,” she finished on an ominous note.

“Fine by me. I suspect by the sound of it; the least said the better so far as some of your old associates go!”

She raised her eyebrows at that. “Hardly old, as I told you, my niece is now running my business, and she needs fresh stock just as I did, nor am I the only one to pass the family business on! There are some competent people around neither of us would wish to upset, believe me on that one! Anyway, time is getting on.”

I automatically glanced over, but there was no old fireplace in this room, no mantlepiece, and no loudly ticking clock. I resisted the temptation to look at my watch, realising that it might seem impolite.

“I did my usual with a new client as I told you during our first meeting.  I immediately went to my little filing system and used the number he gave to find his letter to scan the details. Oh, just the usual routine I went through with every new client. Repeat business was bread and butter money, so I was no better than the local fish and chip shop in that respect. I recall his letter relatively brief, so I didn’t have to wade through a ton of perverted outpourings trying to get to the essentials. Makeup, costume and an idea of the session required. First impressions do count, and I’ve had more than one client abruptly change their mind even after they’d crossed the threshold. The way I looked or just sheer funk, who knows!”

I’m sure you didn’t look that terrifying!”

“No, maybe that was a problem.  I always tried to avoid the blatantly severe traditional leather amazon look, not that I was tall enough to pull the amazon bit off, even in heels! Some professional dominatrices can look so frightening with no effort whatsoever” she paused thoughtfully. “Maybe that’s why a few of my prospective clients did do a quick bunk; perhaps, at  first sight, I didn’t live up to their fantasy expectation?” She pondered for a second, and then her mood changed as she gave a short laugh.

“It’s not size, nor the elaborate heavy makeup or the expensive leather catsuits and the like though that is needed to become a truly terrifying woman. I rarely bothered with cosmetics most days when I was at work, maybe the odd feminine touch but nothing overly heavy. Nor did I at any time bother myself with all that traditional leather crap. My existing expensive collection of ‘work clothes’ must have spent ten years or so mouldering at the back of a wardrobe until I ditched the lot.  A leather belt and various practical pairs of boots were about the extent of my wardrobe in that direction!”

We both turned towards the door listening as a sudden rumble and clatter caught our attention, along with raised voices and the shrill screams of more than one upset or overly excited child. The noise reached its peak outside the bedroom door and then slowly diminished. I grinned at her as she raised her eyebrows in mock horror.

“I hope for your sake that they are right down at the end of the corridor, whoever they are”, I sympathised.

“I hope for my sake that they stay there as well! I wish they’d put me down at the end away from all the through traffic!”

I waved a hand towards her other room and the furnishings. “This was probably more convenient being near the lifts.”

“Probably, I can’t blame them for being practical, and it was very sweet of them to go to the trouble, although I expect such efforts will be reflected in the bill! Anyway, we digress once again.” She paused and gave a wicked laugh. It might have been a trick of the light as she turned her head, but there seemed to be a real sparkle in her bright blue eyes.

“Even before I’d finished perusing his letter, my mind was made up, and it wasn’t about what to wear or facial cosmetics, either. He’d even enclosed a small passport-sized photo stapled to the top right corner of the first page, and unlike most passport pictures, this one showed someone who looked quite human. Young, good looking with a sort of undefined innocence about him”

“The fly for the spider.” 

“Exactly, and once in my web, there would be no escape. It was another of those; how can I describe it? Like an electric shock, or when you try a new idea, something different and suddenly there’s a sort of click feeling for want of a better way of putting it. When something is so perfect and matches up so exactly that even if you expected it, you get a bit of a surprise, much more so if it was entirely unexpected!”

“Like when Celine showed you those exciting pictures of her two-legged ponies in the café?”

“Precisely. The moment I saw that photo, I knew my life had changed.  Likewise, on this occasion. One second I was doing the usual, considering shades of lipstick and how much mascara and eye shadow and the next, I decided it wasn’t going to matter a damn, for there would be no repeat business with this young man.” She paused and giggled. “I suppose given that he was merely in transit and killing time, that would have been the case anyway, but that didn’t even occur to me back then. I just instinctively knew that Celine could tick one item off her list, and I’d just found my very first unwilling playmate!”

We stopped as that earlier loud babble of voices emerged from one or more rooms on the return journey and passed by heading for the lifts.  One shrill voice was excitedly shrieking something about the zoo. The prompt rumble of the elevator's arrival restored the silence as the doors closed with an audible hiss.

“How long are you staying?” I asked with a sympathetic grin.

“Possible not as long as I’d originally intended”, she replied, matching my grin with her own grimace. I’ll try not to bore you anymore, though, with irrelevances. Having put my nervous young American guest at ease and indulged in some trivial chit chat about airlines and arrival halls, customs procedures and the like, I encouraged him to tell me about himself and his bdsm interests. The latter didn’t interest me at that point, for his pathetic little fantasies were no longer of any concern. My priority was asserting his availability and of far more importance, could he be traced to my address should he be missed by anyone”.

“Presumably, he never was?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe someone made an effort, but from what I gleaned, I suspect not. I benefited from having numerous little chats with him down in my basement playroom on that subject right up to the time Celine’s shadowy friends arrived to collect him. He was a very talkative boy, not the least bit inclined towards reticence once my whip went to work on him. A touch surly, of course, but then they always are in the beginning.” She paused and laughed again at the distant memory. 

“Way too talkative at times, not to mention having a very active imagination coupled with a somewhat naïve and exaggerated view of the capabilities of his countries law enforcement and similar institutions. Despite all his frantic outpourings as he danced and screamed under my whip and cane, the US cavalry never came to his rescue.  Nor for that matter the FBI, the CIA, the Secret Service, not even John Wayne!

I chuckled. “Now you’re showing your age”, I chided.

“Figure of speech”, she retorted quickly. “ I’ll admit to being old but not that old. That distinguished gentleman was already past his prime around the time I was born! I do have a fondness for old western movies, although I’m not sure why?”

“Horses?” I offered, making her laugh again.

“Can’t stand the damn beasts”, she admitted holding up a hand to her mouth and whispering conspiratorially as though it were a secret.  “I trained and owned two-legged equines, not four. Strangely I never had the slightest interest in the real thing. The real deal as they say these days, although I knew a few people who were into both!”

She cocked an ear for a second as someone passed along the corridor outside, but they passed on by in comparative quiet and paused again to collect her thoughts before continuing her entertaining narrative.

“Bewilderment!” she finally said. “Is that a word, or should one say bewildered, I wonder? Anyway, I very much remember that was his first emotion when I returned to my nasty little basement dungeon for our first little playtime session together.”

“Playtime! Sorry.” I responded immediately to the sour look she flashed at me.

“As good a term as any,  better than horrible, painful torture, I think. I’ve always tended to use that particular term over the years. It sort of sums up both my mood and the entertainment interests I feel. I know what I meant by it likewise my staff and animals.” She laughed as she finished. “Although so far as the latter are concerned, I ‘m not sure that ‘play’ was a word they’d have applied!”

“That’s what toys are for if you have them”, I offered flippantly.

“Exactly”, she exclaimed, beaming her generous smile at me. “Toys, toys and pets. That is how I viewed them, and that was how I treated them. My toys and my pets to use and to do whatever I wanted with them, whenever I wished to do so and for as long and as intense as I desired!” she paused and seemed to brace her body for a second, then actually shuddered with pure pleasure!

“Anyway, back to my bewildered young captive. Oh, I’d done the usual as I waited for him to arrive at the agreed time. Applied powder and paint, no doubt, crammed my poor feet into hideously uncomfortable high heels and an appropriate costume. Although for the life of me, I can’t remember those details now, nor are they important.”

Once I had him at ease or near enough for the first-timers never properly relax, not until the front door closes behind them after the initial session and maybe not even then. Some came back, others never did, and you could never tell which way they’d go. Sometimes the most terrified little bunny became a regular!  That wasn’t going to matter in his case, though. I’d made my mind up after just a few minutes of chatting to him. He was mine, totally mine, well for the better part of a fortnight anyway, then there would be a nice fat cheque as compensation and more import by far” she paused and then winked at me. “One hell of a lot of brownie points in my account with Celine!”

“How much did she pay you for him?” I asked. A question she pondered for a good ten seconds or more, frowning hard, so I added. “Not that it matters overmuch, just idle curiosity”.

She shook her head, admitting defeat with a puzzled expression on her face. “I have no idea. I ought to remember, especially as he was my first ever transaction, but I can’t. Strange! I can recall an awful lot even what the poor boy looked like, yet not that, odd!” she sighed. “It was a very satisfying sum, that I do remember. I also realised that my days as a professional dominatrix were numbered. No more coaxing little spurts of sperm from pathetic teeny dicks betwixt the legs of fat middle-aged men”, she stopped and shuddered. “Did I actually do that?” she murmured to herself, pulling a face.

I gave her a moment, then asked. “Malcolm, I assume he was  not in the ‘teeny’ category?”

“Hardly!” she exclaimed with a wink. “That is one thing I do remember. I immediately noted that bonus once he took his clothes off, a little shyly as I recall. Celine’s little list did allow me a lot of leeway. That’s not unusual by any means in this business. The more exact and specific the buyer's requirements for the basic raw material, the higher the price.  Once said material has been sourced and obtained, then the rest is pretty standard. Like working with metal. The raw material may differ, melting points and such, but the procedure from ore to ingot and if necessary to finished product is very similar, is it not?”

I nodded. “That sounds logical”, I agreed. “So to use your simile terminology, ma’am, I assume Malcolm was fresh out of the ore mine and ticked all the appropriate boxes?”

Once again, she screwed her face into that frown as she thought back. “Absolutely, nor were there that many boxes to tick. Required,  a young man, eighteen to twenty-five, preferably at the younger end. Good looks not essential, but a good body was. Slim, trim, healthy and not over tall nor visually muscular. I recall that Celine had underlined the word ordinary on her list of requisites. Not effeminate nor a homosexual and preferable a virgin, although that was not essential!” she paused and looked at me. “Back then, the term ‘Gay’ was not in general use. People either used the main term or, more likely, one of the many offensive slang derivatives!” she looked at me thoughtfully. 

“Damn funny that I can remember all this and yet draw a total blank on what Celine gave me for him, odd!”

“You mentioned the word bewildered a moment ago”, I reminded her. “Could you clarify that a little for me?”

She laughed, showing me those perfect even white teeth that I was positive were all her own. “By all means. Once I sensed he was feeling comfortable with me and the situation and I’d blushingly coaxed some of his fantasies out of him. Not me,” she hastened to add. “I was way beyond blushing at submissive fantasies by that time.  Sometimes though, I found it hard not to laugh at their pathetic utterings. Honestly, the weird things some men can conjure up to get their limp cocks standing to attention, my god!”

She paused to take a mouthful of coffee, absently slurping it rather noisily but seemingly indifferent as she considered what to say next.  “Malcolm wasn’t one of those; I never actually met a young man who was. They were almost always first-timers and, rather disappointingly, one-timers. Maybe it was me, or maybe not. I always liked having younger clients, but they were a rare breed.”

“Money, perhaps?”

She put her cup down. “Possibly, but as I believe I said once before, I was never greedy. Expensive, even a little exclusive, but never greedy.  I enjoyed what I did after all, so why should  I have priced myself out of the market? He was one of the basic baseline ones, no doubt experimenting with his sexuality and perhaps toying with the idea of being submissive. A lot of them are like that. They wank themselves stupid over images of leather-clad whip-wielding imperious women but one short practical experience and its back to straight sex and the missionary position for life,” she finished with a chuckle.

“But not for Malcolm. Was he a genuine submissive or one of your basic baseliners?”

“Good question,” she admitted. “and to be honest, I have never even thought about it. I certainly didn’t back then, and of course, he had no choice in the matter. His submission became an inevitable fact from the moment I buckled that first restraining strap upon him. I’d made my mind up long before I encouraged him to undress and then escorted him down to my playroom” she paused and giggled. “I remember following him down and looking at his firm young buttocks, so white and plumply fleshy. Some men will declare themselves as leg or tit fanciers, I know. Me, always buttocks, bums and bottoms and his posterior was oh so tempting! I could hardly wait to lay my cane across it. I’d find out just how effective my soundproofing installation had been?”.

She fell silent again for a few moments, a rather sinister little smile playing around her lips, I thought as she replayed that brief moment over in her mind before continuing. 

“I decided our brief relationship ought to commence with a little taster of things to come, plus I was anxious to get him to the point of no return, and I’m not referring to the male orgasm! Even as we descended and I was admiring that oh so tempting butt of his, I was also aware that my chosen prey was still technically roaming free and could change his mind at any moment. That would have been highly inconvenient given how excited I was feeling, likewise how randy I’d suddenly become! Way hotter and wetter than I’d ever felt before as I escorted a client downstairs, I might add!”

“As you may have noticed, I am not by any means one of the larger specimens of the human race” she smiled. “Young Malcolm was no Coney Island lifeguard, but he would have had no difficulty overcoming me with one hand tied behind his back should he have decided to change his mind at that point against my wishes.  There would have been nothing that I could have done to change the situation at that point physically. Maybe verbally, I might have sweet-talked him into entering my waiting web, but I doubt it. He wouldn't have been the first to take one look at my little chamber of horrors and do an abrupt about-turn!”

“Horrors! Bad, frightening, I mean?” I asked.

“Nooo”, she mused. “At least I didn’t think so. I’d deliberately gone for subtle girlie pastel colours and lots of subdued soft lighting. Frilly but functional! I wanted to avoid the black leather, dark and sinister or bare bleak walls and frightening medieval dungeon approach. I tried to create more of a feminine boudoir effect, albeit one with sinister racks of equipment and various pieces of apparatus. I wanted my dungeon to be a little different from those of my competitors. 

She paused again and chuckled. “Hell, I even had a big double bed down there, all flouncy pink and white and sexily inviting. I wanted the randy bastards to look at that bed when I was beating the shit out of them and then look at me with a degree of optimistic hope!” she laughed aloud. “In their dreams maybe, or perhaps on their next visit or the one after that! This year, next year, sometimes never!”

I was about to ask another question when she stopped me with a finger to her lips, saying, “No, don’t pry. Whether or not that bed ever got used is nothing to do with this particular tale. Let a girl keep a few secrets!”

“Anyway”, she continued after I’d finished chuckling. “He didn’t do a bunk and meekly followed my instructions draping himself face down over my whipping hurdle.  Would you believe, I even hesitated at that point rather than rushing to secure him”

“Second thoughts?

She shook her head. “Don’t be silly! No, nothing like that; my mind wasn’t running along those lines at all. It was more a feeling of, well, triumph, I think. Exultation or something of that nature! He was mine, mine to do with as I wanted, and that thought was so thrilling I just wanted to savour that moment, I suppose.” She paused and sighed. “I expect that sounds rather silly now, doesn’t it?”

“Not at all”, I assured her.

“Hmmm, maybe,” she conceded dubiously. “I don’t know what I would have done at that point had he suddenly jumped up and taken to his heels! Anyway, he didn’t but obediently stayed put, although his head turned every which way taking in his surroundings and all the ‘interesting’ items on view. I remember standing there watching his cock, which had so far been somewhat shy and unenthusiastic, promptly wake up and show signs that it might expand to the degree that Celine’s mystery customer would doubtlessly appreciate!”

I grinned. “You were obviously very committed at that stage. I’ll lay odds that even if he had done a runner, it wouldn’t be long before you found a similar replacement!”

She didn’t answer immediately but chose to stare at me with an amused quizzical look then that finger wagged again. “As a matter of fact, you’re quite wrong. If I were a racegoer, I don’t think I would be inclined to place my hard-earned money on any of your hunches,” she chuckled.

I returned the grin, “Tell me about it! Lucky is not my middle name”.

She nodded. “Ah, luck, yes? Not something we think about overmuch, is it and yet how it can greatly affect our lives? Imagine if Celine had decided to contact someone else. Suppose her business had not taken her to London that time or if that other Dom I rang to enquire about Celine hadn't been home or ignored the phone. I was so certain that was a crank letter I doubt I’d have phoned a second time...” she broke off her eyes distant.

“Luck, I think, is something we take for granted every single day”, she continued thoughtfully.  We all walk across roads without looking correctly, make assumptions about cyclists and pedestrians while driving, do all manner of careless things because we’ve done them a thousand times before! Good luck, bad luck, right place right time or wrong place wrong time!”

“Very thought-provoking”, I added, my mind unintentionally drifting before her laughter recalled it.

“Well,  there are those who say we make our own luck, and that certainly applied to me on that occasion. As I said, you’d be wrong, for no similar suitable candidate crossed my path for a long time. Way too long, I expect, for Celine’s list.  Thus my hesitation lasted but for a second or two. I jumped forward, and my eager fingers were strapping one wrist to a leg of the hurdle. That was all I needed. The way he was positioned made it virtually impossible for him to reach the buckle with his other hand and release himself”.

“The defining moment, perhaps?”

She considered. “One of several. Up to that point, I could have changed my mind. Changed my future life and his for I doubt that I would ever have achieved the courage again even if I had found a suitable candidate. Such a simple thing when one thinks about it, a small strip of leather with a few holes punched in it and a few bits of metal. Yet once that tiny pin slipped through a hole, and I pulled the tongue under that roller buckle, our fates were forever sealed!”

“Dramatic stuff; when did he realise the same?”

She shot me a suspicious glance. “Dramatic! Hmm, well, I did say bewildered, didn’t I? I suspect he got the first clue a few minutes later when I returned. I quickly secured his other wrist and then his ankles, gave him a friendly pat on his bottom and suggested he carried on looking around my playroom. I expect I called him ‘sweetie’ or something similar. I always used such terms of endearment on them in those days!”

“Not now?”

“When did you last call a pony, a dog or a cat Sweetie or similar, eh? She shot straight back. “Anyway,  you have to remember that back then, there were limits, even verbal ones, if I wanted to get paid! Some guys got off on being insulted and the like, but they were usually the ones I avoided, the ones who wanted really filthy stuff doing to them, and I was never into that, strange,” she finished thoughtfully.

I politely waited and then, when nothing was forthcoming, prompted her. “Strange?”

“Mmmm, yes. I was never into what they call waters-sports and the like, filthy perversions literally. Heavens,  just imagine the clearing up afterwards. Yet even after all these years, the sight of a helpless human equine shitting in its stall or fouling itself while exercising never fails to thrill me. That’s what I was ruminating upon if that’s the right word?” 

I nodded. “Pondering, musing, reflecting, cogitating, etc.”

She laughed. “Cogitating, now that is a good word, ah bang on time” she changed tack, glancing at her watch as someone knocked gently on the door.

“I decided on biscuits”, she pointed as the door closed quietly behind the elderly waiter a few minutes later. “Either the bathroom scales here are wrong, or I’ve been overdoing the cakes recently. Help yourself; they bake their own did I tell you that?”

I pulled the fresh cup of coffee toward me and selected a large chocolate chip cookie. “I believe you did once, but I hardly think you need worry overmuch about those scales”.

“Oh, tish and tosh”, she waved a hand with a giant plain-looking biscuit in it at me. “One never stops worrying. Hell, I’d feel damn silly if I felt like going for a gallop when I go back and found I’m too heavy for the wretched pony, wouldn’t I?”

I decided not to offer any comment and took a mouthful of delicious instant melt in the mouth cookie instead. Whoever baked them downstairs was very proficient at their craft.

“I left him alone for five minutes or so” she picked up her story again. “I wanted to change my clothes. The idea came to me as I followed him down the stairs to my playroom, even as I eyed his tempting buttocks. I think my feet were hurting from a corn or something in those damn stilettos! Why shouldn’t I be comfortable, though? I mean, I subconsciously reasoned, there was no point in both of us being tortured, was there?” she giggled. “I nipped up to my bedroom, ditched the heels for a pair of comfortable flats and swapped the leather for tee shirt and slacks. That’s why the poor dear looked so bewildered when I returned!”

It was my turn to laugh. “ The fearsome leather-clad Dom gone and enter stage left, the wholesome little girl next door!”

“Something like that. I did see a moment of panic. It probably took him a few seconds to realise that I was the same person and not an interloper. You know there is a certain something about those bloody heels; they do somehow elevate you in more ways than one.” She paused and chuckled. “Not that the wretched things ever made up for the discomfort, in my opinion. Some women seem to take to them like a duck to water but not this particular specimen, I’m afraid. I haven't worn the bloody things in years. A comfortable pair of well-worn riding boots, now that’s a completely different matter!”

I waited as she glanced at her watch, her eyes seemingly watching the second-hand tick around and saying nothing, then she stirred and sighed. “I’m a terrible storyteller, aren’t I. I mean, look at the time, and I’ve hardly covered any of the ground I’d intended to before you arrived!”

I smiled politely. “I wouldn’t worry, ma’am. I find it all quite fascinating and not the least bit boring

She glanced at the watch again. “I do have an appointment with an old friend later, but there is still time to continue our chat. Unlike that day long ago, I feel no need to change and anyway, I’ve grown far too lazy. What goes on before breakfast tends to stay on till bedtime these days.” She paused and glanced over to a big vertical mirror set on one wall. “Vanity and worrying overmuch about my appearance was something else that changed that day. I mean, why the hell should I give a four X what my animals thought about me! Hell, I had the whip, and the whip hand, and I’m sure my day to day appearance figured not one jot in their miserably daily lives!”

It was my turn to glance at my watch. “Well, I’m certainly not about to push you, ma’am, but ultimately it's that part of your life that most interests me. Not that what you’ve told me to date is by any means uninteresting.”

“She does,” my host remarked, clearly not having heard a word that I’d just said. “My niece, I mean, never ever goes over to them without the paint and powder plus a carefully chosen outfit to match. Her idea of ‘work clothes’ a good deal more fashionable than anything I ever wore!” she laughed.

I grinned. “I think it’s a youth thing all down to those internet influencers or whatever. Every young girl has to tan up and apply her false eyelashes just to pop down to the corner shop for a bread loaf!”

“Hmm, perhaps, although I thought corner shop were long gone from most neighbourhoods! She does look so sweet and sexy, though” she stopped and chuckled. “Hell, I’ll bet the young colts and stallions twitch a lot more because of that than they ever did with me!”

“I’m sure they appreciated you just as much”, I reassured her.

“Perhaps, I suppose  I was no different in some aspects. I didn’t tend to flaunt it quite as blatantly as she does, though. But then they all do these days don’t they?”

I thought it time to steer her back on track, to return to the past as she sat evidently pondering the way young women went about presenting themselves in the world of the present. “Malcolm, did he appreciate your change of attire?”

She responded immediately to my prompt. “No idea, nor was I interested in what he thought. My days of worrying about what submissive’s like him thought were rapidly coming to an end. Popping upstairs to change had given me time to think without his presence distracting me. The first thing I did was to apply the ‘belt and braces’ principle. Cuffs and hobbles.  I wanted him secure, very secure, and in any case, I could hardly leave him bent over that hurdle forever or till Celine collected him, could I?”

“Practicalities”, I mused. “Had you thought about them especially given what you were saying a moment ago. Certain important aspects of what you might call essential  ‘house training’ come to mind!”

“Oh, my yes and no. Tell the truth; I hadn’t given a single thought to the more mundane aspects of, what shall I call it, ownership of the unwilling? I’d accommodated subs in my cells before, of course. Overnight or for several nights. One fool actually paid me handsomely for the ‘privilege’ of spending an entire week in a cell, didn’t even want to session. The easiest and most lucrative earner I ever had, even brought his own food. Looked like a mixture of dry pet food and assorted breakfast cereal. All I had to supply was a bowl of water twice a day and top his feed bowl up.  Both my cells had simple wooden commodes with a metal bucket. I got them cheap from an auction. They must originally have had proper ceramic pots, but they were missing; the buckets were good enough. One of those situations when  you go to bid on one thing and come back with something entirely different, and I’ve long forgotten whatever it was made me attend!”

I supped at my coffee and then said. “So, you had Malcolm for what, twelve days or so, I believe?”

“Mmmm, about that.” Her voice had taken on that dreamy tone again while her eyes travelled to that place both near and yet very far and certainly beyond my range of vision. “You’ve no idea”, she murmured, “you can’t even begin to imagine how much I enjoyed those few days we had together. It was like, like,” she broke off and laughed. “Well, this will sound daft, but like one of those short shipboard romances, you read about in silly stories. So intense but gone in a flash, but so to speak.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I take it the enjoyment was entirely one-sided?”

If anyone had been in the next bedroom trying to sleep suffering from acute jet lag or a heavy night on the town, then her bellow of laughter at my remark would have certainly have awakened them!