I am tired of studying. Although I have exams next week and need to revise, my brain and eyes are tired. I can feel myself growing stale almost by the minute.My Master is sitting opposite me, working, legs crossed at the ankle, examining papers and accounts, making occasional notes in the margin. Bored with reading about economics, budgets, surplus and deficits, financial accounting versus cost accounting, and..... I decide it is time for a change of tone. Plucking a grape from the bunch on the table next to me, I toss it at my Master. It bounces off his file, and down onto the settee beside him. Over his glasses, he gazes expressionlessly at me for a moment, picks up the grape, pops it in his mouth, and returns to his note-making. Piqued at such a non-response, I pluck and toss another grape. This time it lands on his lap. Once again, he levels a look at me and pops it in his mouth. "I thought you were supposed to be working?" he says. "Studying hard for your exams?""Wel

Later:"Can I ask you, something Master? Richard?"He looks at me. I only ever call him 'Richard' when we are in company. In private, between us, he is always 'Master'."One of those questions, eh?" he says. "Go on then. But I'm not promising an answer.""Why didn't you marry Adele? She's so beautiful, and obviously more experienced with life. Why did you ask me and not her?"He looks away, clearly taking the time to choose his words. "She is beautiful, yes, and you're right. In some ways, she is more obviously 'wifely' material for me, but there was something about her that, as I came to know her well, it.... well, it repelled me. There is a coldness about her. Beautiful; yes, she is, but beautiful like a statue. You are so much more alive than she. There were other things too."Such as?""Well, for a start, she was too obviously after the money.""What makes you think I'm not interested in the money?"He laughs. "You'd be foolish to not be at least a bit interested

Chilled by the implicit threat in my captor's words, nonetheless, I keep talking. "What are you going to do with me? Ransom me? Is that it? You want back the money you stole in the first place?"Mack swings around again to look at me. This time the car almost comes off the road. "I told you. Shut it."He drives to a less appealing part of town; old abandoned warehousing and industrial units. The area is depressing, with very few people apart from a couple of what look like homeless types, curled up in sleeping bags atop, or under, old cardboard boxes. Broken bottles and hypodermic needles are scattered over the ground. No reputable person is going to wander here accidentally. Do they intend to hold me prisoner here? In this awful place?Mack pulls up at the back of an old warehouse, brick-built, run down and empty, several stories tall, but long unused and falling into disrepair. Broken windows access black spaces and pigeon nests. The remains of an old hoist and winch groans in

My Master steps over the threshold, carrying me in his arms. My huge white meringue of a dress catches on the handle, and he struggles through the door with me and it together. I giggle, as he makes complex manoeuvres trying to get himself, me and the dress all through the door together."Welcome home, Mrs Haswell," he says. Smiling, running his hand over the bodice of my wedding gown, his deep blue eyes are almost glowing. "You look beautiful in this dress, Elizabeth. But on the whole, I think I want to get you out of it."Sucking my lips in anticipation, "Yes, um, I think you're going to have to help me." The dress is boned, buttoned, laced and cinched in tight.He looks the dress over from all sides. "Er, yes, I see what you mean. Not so much a dress as a construction. How did you get into it?""Francis helped. She did up all the buttons at the back. And the laces."He starts at the back, pulling at laces, trying to loosen the bodice. After several unsuccessful minutes,

... I pour icy champagne down the length of my Master's back. He yelps, standing suddenly, bolt upright. I collapse into a fit of giggles, making no resistance as my Master grabs me and spins me, bending me over the back of a chair, pulling my ass up and out. Looking backwards through the waterfall of my long red hair, I catch a glimpse of his expression; laughing/stern. He tries to maintain his poise and authority, but is having difficulty.His hand sweeps down on my derriere, slapping hard against one cheek, making me gasp and jump. But my pussy flutters a welcome."That, Elizabeth," he says "Was very naughty. I am going to have to change my plans on what I had in mind for you today.""I'm sorry Master." I splutter to stop myself from laughing. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."Slap! The hand comes down on the other cheek, stinging. "I'm not going to stop this now," he continues, "Until your rear end matches your hair."Since my hair is brilliantly red, my butt is i