Matched Pair: 11 – Two’s story

One looked up at the others.

“Only one of us can get this,” she said “there has to be a winner. I wish there didn’t”. Minnie privately agreed, she knew that this weekend was going to be all she got – and she was going to enjoy every minute. Over the next 48 hours she was going to be who she wanted to be, no more no less.

“Two,” The girl smiled, “your turn, I think.”

Two had taken the end of the sofa most directly opposite the CCTV camera fixed high on the wall in the corner of the room. She had tucked her towel  around her breasts (the largest in the room – larger even than the girl’s, thought Min), and draped it to emphasise her deep cleavage. she sat with legs swept to one side and ankles crossed. her back was straight and the towel had been separated so her tight, slim belly was visible. Her legs were discreetly together but she still looked immodest. Enough of her belly was displayed to see that her pubis was bare and hairless. She had finished vigorously brushing her dark hair and was busy pinning it back up in the bun she had worn before the shower. She took out the kirby grips she had held between her teeth.

“Bring it on. The competition, I mean,” said Two “I’m here to get what I want and I’ll give all I can to get it. My Dom – well my ex-Dom – called me ‘Gillette’ because he said I was the best a man could get. That’s what I aim to be”.

“And I do see it as a competition. And I reckon all’s fair and all that… I will be trying to do better than the rest of you”.

The girl opened two’s manilla folder and handed round two’s kink-o-gram.


“You are certainly a very different woman from One” she said “Two, you are 24% kinky. Your lifestyle score was 16%. You were higher on play – 22% and highest on sex – 32%, even thought there are some things you won’t do. Why do you think you are here?”

“Because I want to be the best”. Two didn’t pause to reflect.

“I’ll give your man, and you, what you want. Yes, I’ll even cook and clean to get what I want. I want to walk out of here in a year or so ready to get what you have”. Two looked straight at The girl.

“I’ve read his blogs. I’ve read yours. I know how you live. I nearly had that but the guy wouldn’t commit. I know I can be irresistible to the best sort of Dom and I reckon your guy knows how to make me into a sub that would match any Dom’s fantasy. And I get paid for it. C’mon girls – whoever gets this will have a queue of Doms forming. This is a ticket to a future of being adored and respected and looked after. And we will get to choose. And, right now the opportunity not to work and not to have rent to pay is good too. A year here could turn my finances around”.

“I know what I want, I want the opportunity to build a home for me and my partner. I want to keep him interested in me by giving him what he wants. And I want to be someone other women look at and admire for what I’ve got”.

“Yes, I’m going to be completely selfish about this. But I don’t think that will matter to the right man. He’ll know that by giving me what I want he’ll get everything he wants. There won’t be any compromises.

“I’ve had it. twice. Once the guy wouldn’t give up on the idea of kids. I’m not going to be a mum for anyone. I had my tubes tied the same time I got my tits done. It was a tidy little divorce: he even paid for my lawyer”.

“The second time I found what I really wanted. It’s still what I want now. I found a guy who wanted what I wanted to be. He was happy for me to be the cook in the kitchen and the slut in bed. I just had to be a homemaker and a whore and I got the house, the Merc soft-top, the holiday villa in Marbella.”

“I had these done for him”. She flashed the lovebirds on her ankles, “I think they are lovely, don’t you? I’d love to have some more – if they were as pretty as these.”

“OK, he wouldn’t marry me. But when it came to it I could take that. But he wanted others. I’m a one man woman and i expect the same. OK, I don’t mind playing with other women. But we all know the way that goes, don’t we girls? I don’t want my man to compare me to anyone else. Especially someone like me who’ll give him all he wants – but maybe is just a little younger, or prettier. I certainly don’t want to share. That guy always made the point that any others would just be toys – but who wants to take the risk?”

She looked at The Girl, “I’m surprised you agreed to this. But you are safe with me. I will move on when he’s finished with me – or when I feel ready. But I will give him all I can and when I move on I will be value for somebody’s money”.

Last: 10 – one’s story

Next: 12 – three’s tale

Back to start

Matched Pair: 10 – One’s story

“First,” said The Girl, ” you have noooooo privacy. As you were told in your joining email, there is CCTV in every room down here. He or I may or may not be watching at any time. Everything is recorded. Upstairs there is no surveillance.”

“So, we don’t know much about you and you don’t know much about us. Now is the time to put the first bit of that right. In fact, the whole of this week end is about us getting to know you – and about you deciding whether you’d like to spend more time with us. ” She smiled. “until we offer one of you that opportunity and you come back here all you need to know  is that he will make your dreams come true – if they are true dreams. He will use you to make every area of our life more comfortable and convenient. He will amuse himself with you. He will use you to help me service him better. But we only want to do this with someone who passionately wants to submit to this – someone who will feel bigger and stronger because of what we can all do together.

“We want to make this  dream come true for all of us. We hope you will be fulfilled and happy. But it won’t be about you”. She frowned slightly “Never forget that, for us, you are a means to an end. It should be the same for you: Be as selfish as you can. We certainly will be”.

“One, would you like to tell us why you are here?”. The girl took a manilla folder with  “One” written on it, opened it and took out two sheets of paper. the first was the kink picture produced by the spreadsheet the man had sent her. The second was, she saw, her email pleading to be asked for interview.

The girl handed the kink-o-gram to Three: “Take a look and pass it on'” she said.


“Number One – we nearly didn’t invite you at all. When he looked at this he noticed you seem to have a very ordinary libido. Our ad. asked for people with a ‘voracious sexual appetite“. You really don’t do you dear?” One held the Girl’s gaze for a moment but then blushed. “I do really” One said.

The Girl continued “But then he looked at your kinkiness quotient – you scored 77%, despite only a six per cent rating for sex. You had a 96% rating for lifestyle factors. That really wowed him”.

“And, in your email, you said you wanted the opportunity to be ‘unrecognisably different’. What are you all about dear?”

One looked at her feet. Her blush deepened. She looked at the floor and played with her long auburn plait.

“Now is not a time to hide anything”. The girl patted One on a knee and lifted her chin :we are all listening.”

One licked her dry lips and sighed. She looked at her neatly manicured hands for a moment. Then she started to speak:

“I want to be like Cathie Jung or Valeria Lukyanova. I want to be in my seventies and still noticed – or famous for being different – like those real live Russian and Ukrainian Barbie doll girls.

I know I’m beautiful. I know men look at me. But they want to marry me, not to fuck me. I’ve got the kind of beauty other women appreciate, but don’t feel threatened by. I could be anyone’s sister.

English: Madonna in the infamous black corset ...
Photo credit: Wikipedia

“I’ve been noticed all my life. But not for being me.

“If you choose me then I will remind you I have a choice too. If I come here, everything will be a means to an end for me. You and your man will get what you want out of me so I can get what I want. I could afford to do this anyway. But I don’t think I have the guts – not if I am still with Daddy and Mummy. I’m 28 and I am still their little girl. Their little girl, the doctor. Their little girl who no man is good enough for. Their little girl who has always been exactly what they wanted.

“When I was tiny I was the best at ballet. I won nearly all my gymnastics competitions. When I was bigger I was given anything I wanted, as long as it was something they wanted too.

“And Mummy wanted to keep me special for Daddy. Don’t get me wrong. I am not talking about funny business or abuse. Daddy really loves me and I think Mummy wants me to stay their  little girl because, if I don’t, I will break the spell between the two of them.

“I don’t think I can ever be me if I don’t get away from them. Yes, I know there are loads of ways I could do that don’t involve becoming an object. Because that’s what you are doing – isn’t it? I think I can only be me if I spoil me for them. That will free me.

“And no, I’m not much into sex. Not with other people. But I don’t think it’s true I have no libido. I make myself come most nights. Some days too. It’s one part of me that belongs to me alone. And I have so many fantasies about living the kind of life I read about in stuff like “The Marketplace“. If all I get out of this is a couple of days living the dream that that seems good to  me. But I’m deadly serious about this job. From what you’ve said so far it is the key to the future I’ve always dreamed of.

“I’m no virgin. But the only men I’ve had are ones that got through Mummy’s net. They deserved me, for all the effort they went to. But they didn’t interest me – because I knew they’d been selected as suitable candidates for husbands. And husbands that Mummy would find biddable,

“I’ve not met anyone that I wanted to fuck since my flatmate at medical school. She turned my knees to jelly because she just took charge. I don’t think I care if it’s a man or a woman who has me as long as they are in charge. Properly in charge. Not a bully. Not a fantasist.

“It wasn’t sexual at first. Actually not for a long time. But I knew I wanted to please her from our second night together. I’d hated uni halls but I thought I was going to hate living off campus even more. Even though she was already my best pal. She was always out. Always partying and I never was. But on that second night she made me have a good time. ‘We are going to a party’ she said. ‘We are going to meet some guys first at Windy City and then boogie the night away. Well, boogie is the least I expect.’

“I told her no many, many times, But she took no notice. ‘You’ll love it when you get there’ she said. I said I’d come for the meal. We tipped up at this exotic knightsbridge pizza place dolled up like crazy. She made me wear some of her clothes – stuff I’d never wear – a green minidress with a wide leather belt and stilettos much higher than I’d ever dare. I felt amazzzinnggg. We had a table for two. I asked her where the boys were? She said ‘just look, they are all over the place. You’re the bait’.

“She eye’d up a few – far too obviously I thought – until one came over. He was no great shakes, but Shelagh just pitched in, talked about the party and invited him – and his mates. By about 10;30 we’d lined up a dozen guys and one girl. Shelagh gave them all an address in St John’s Wood and she, me, the girl and one guy whizzed off. Most of the rest got there too. I didn’t know anyone, but Shelagh whirled me round, introducing me, dancing with me, drinking with me. I could see she was after the girl, but that was going nowhere. We both pulled and I ended up going back with some unmemorable guy to Finchley. It was ok. But I just wanted to be with her. I’m not a lesbian It wasn’t about sex or lust.. I’d been looked after. She’d let me be me and made sure I felt good and happy and safe: But she hadn’t wrapped me in cotton wool.

“I was with her for four years nearly and I always felt free. I was never her girlfriend – though we did sleep together when she didn’t have male company. And yes, sometimes we fucked. But I always felt free because I knew she was making me be who she wanted me to be. But not like Mummy and Daddy. With them I am always the little girl. Shelagh knew I was a monster inside and she let me be that. She wanted me to be who I really was and she took pleasure in taking and using that for herself. And she never made excuses for it.

“I’ve tried finding a dominant and building him in to my life. But it doesn’t work. I can’t give in whilst Mummy is around. And Daddy just acts like I’m letting him down whenever I’m with anybody. It nearly worked once. But he cared too much about me to change me. Which really meant he didn’t care at all – didn’t it?

“So, I have to get away. And I have to become someone  I am proud of. I’ve spent my life chained up. All you can do is free me”.

Last: 9 – Indelible Marker

Next: 11 – Two’s story

Back to start

Matched Pair: 9 – Indelible Marker

The man disappeared, black bin-liners in tow.

They all made their safe calls. All except number one – she said she hadn’t arranged one, which prompted frowns from The Girl. It had been a requirement But, for the others, friends knew they had arrived and that so far, nothing untoward had happened to them.

“Let me give you all a quick tour” said The girl bustling them through. “There really isn’t much. This will be where the girl we choose is kept when we don’t need her. It will be appropriately furnished”. It was a bare, whitewashed room with a stone flagged floor. The only furniture was the antique, oak framed red velvet covered chaise they’d been sitting on and a long low table in front of it fitted, they noticed, with polished stainless steel eyebolts at each corner and halfway down each side.

The door from the kitchenette was behind them. In the centre of the wall facing them was a strongly built wooden planked door. to their right was another exit, barred by black wrought iron bars.

“You’ve seen the little kitchen as you came in, of course. The stairs go up to the main house and that door at the end there goes to our playroom, You might see it later. At the moment it’s where he gives me a good going over when he feels like it. Oh, and sometimes we have small parties”.

“This is the bedroom.” She swung open the bars and bustled them in. There were four camp beds and sleeping bags and that was it. The floor was bare, new, concrete and the walls were emulsioned white. A bare bulb lit the room at the end of which was another barred entrance. A stack of white, fresh, pump towels lay folded on a side table. A white towelling robe, equally fluffy both inside and out, hung beside the door: “Ablutions” said The girl. “Let’s shower”. They walked in to the room behind rthe second set of bars which was tiled, floor, walls and ceiling. The floor sloped slightly toward one corner. The girl turned a faucet by the door and cold water jetted from a nozzle set into the ceiling. The girls screamed and jumped back – but in a second or two it warmed and they gathered round it. The shower faucet was unusual, directly behind it a short length ofheavyweight galvanised chain descended a few inches from a bolt in the ceiling at the end of which swung a six inch diameter steel ring. The wall was studded with strong steel u-bolts, eight of them, in the middle of each side of the room, four at ankle height and four around a metre from the floor.

“Me first” said The Girl. She moved to the centre of the room, letting the water cascade over her. “Come on then, wash me.” She smiled, standing, akimbo, legs planted apart, shaking her head to keep the droplets out of her eyes. “There is shampoo and stuff over their”. She pointed.

One, Two, Three and fFve looked at each other. “Hair first please, said The Girl, kneeling. One selected a bottle from a row on a glass and chrome shelf by the door, squirted a little on her fingertips and sniffed. “Wow”, she said. “Jo Malone, lime, basil and mandarin” said The girl, ” he likes me tropical at the moment. Can you use the coconut body wash and moisturiser please.”

Two ran her fingers along the row of bottles, finding the right unguents. As she walked over to The girl Min noticed that she wasn’t quite as naked as the rest of them: what she had thought were bows on the heels of her seamed stockings were actually tattoos of a pair of bluebirds, kissing, one pair on each ankle. Three moved to the centre of the room to join in and Min noticed she too had ink. Entwined Celtic beasts, in black, adorned her lower back.

The girl stood again and let her handmaids slither their hands over every inch of her. When two dithered over her bald pubis The girl took two’s hand and put it between her legs, dipping slightly to make herself as accessible as possible. Soon, they were done and the three giggling girls stepped back from the object of their attention.

“Five.” The Girl knelt again and this time put her head on the tiled floor so that her but tucks were raised. “He may wish to bugger me. A douche will suffice”.

“Madam, I’ve never done this,” said Min.

“Five, you must never call me anything but ‘girl’. I am his. I am never to be given a title of any sort by anyone except him. And I will never ask you to do anything for me that is for my pleasure alone. The person he chooses will be a pleasure object for him if he doesn’t want me or if I am not available. Whichever of you is chosen will help me be the best I can be for him. I will never have authority over another. He has already said he can see times when the woman he chooses will be given some authority over me”.

“Five, you will need the little blue bulb with the nozzle attached. It is in the second drawer over there”.

This "fountain syringe" should only ...
Photo credit: Wikipedia

Five hobbled across and opened the drawer. Amongst a confusion of plastic pipes, tubing and tubes of lube was something that looked like a hot water bottle. She lifted it. Under it was a blue rubber bulb with a much more rigid white plastic nozzle, about ten centimetres long and about half a centimetre wide, protruding from the front.

“It’s easy. Unscrew the nozzle and fill the bulb with water at about blood heat.  Colder is ok. But I’ll schqueem and schqueem. It’s up to you, but it would be nice if you were kind. Hotter and you will damage me. Don’t.”

“just put a little lube on the end and shove it into me when you are ready. Then just gently squeeze the bulb until I’m full, Pull it out when the bulb is empty. Gently would be nice. Don’t forget to stand well back. But this isn’t like an enema. I’m pretty empty and I doubt I’ll be shitting anything. I won’t need the loo”.

Five took the thing over to the washbasin, prepared it, and dragged her foot and herself to The Girl. she stood behind her.

A rectal "bulb" syringe that can be ...
Photo credit: Wikipedia

Five realised she would have to kneel. One saw this and moved forward to help her down. Five asked for some lube and, instead of anointing the douche’s nozzle she put a little on her finger. She rubbed it around the puckered anus and then applied a little more to her digit. She pushed  against the entrance. Except she didn’t have to. The Girl opened up for her and her finger slipped inside, easily passing both sphincters.

“Is the lube really necessary?” Asked Five.

“Not really, but I thought you guys might find it useful” said The Girl.

Another thought occurred to Minnie: “Would your bloke want me to use warm water. Or would he want to hear you yell?” She asked.

“Oh you clever thing.”. The Girl was now pulling Five’s finger in further with firm, strong movements from her rings of rectal muscle.  “Good question. If he wanted me made uncomfortable he would have told me and I would have told you. In any case this is just part of my evening routine”.

Five removed her finger and instantly replaced in with the nozzle of the douche. She squeezed gently feeling the tepid water flow into The girl, who mewed contentedly.

The bulb empty, Five gently pulled  it backwards. This time the girl didn’t help. “I’ll hold it in while you move out of the way,” she said. But Five could not get up and One again knelt to help her. As she did The Girl let go.  With a quiet thwapping noise a thin jet of liquid pulsed out of The Girl’s arse, gushing over Five’s knee and One’s arm and tummy. It turned into a stream and then a trickle which was neither discoloured nor smelt – it seemed as much clean water as when it went it in.

“Was I brown?” asked The Girl. “Ewwww…” said One, more in mockery than outrage. “No” said Min – making herself be as matter fo fact as she could.

“Excellent” said The Girl, standing. “Right, everyone get clean, I’m going to get dry”. She walked to the door grabbing a towel from the pile and the sole bathrobe.

“Hose me down” said One. “sure” said Five, Two moved to the door and turned the shower back on. Two and five washed each other down whilst the other two waited and then took their own turn.

When the four came out they all grabbed towels and dried off rapidly, One and Three also making turbans for their long hair.

The Girl was reclining on the sofa, be-robed and turbaned, her feet, in white towelling slippers, were propped on the low table in front of her. Next to her feet  was a thick, black felt-tip pen. “It’s a cd marker. It’ll come off fairly quickly of you really scrub – but if you let it fade it takes about a week to go, even if you shower every day”.

“As always, it’s up to you at the moment. Anyone not want to be marked?”

It seemed trivial to Min. No-one said no.

The girl got up and took Min’s towel: Carefully she outlined “5” on her left breast. The number was about 12 cms high. She filled in the outline until there was a thick, highly visible, black figure there. She turned Min round and did the same on her right buttock.

“Don’t touch or sit down for a minute or two dear”. The girl moved on down the line and inked the remaining candidates.

“Now”, she said, her task complete: “Let’s get to know each other”.

Last: 8 – The Basement

Next: 10 – one’s story

Back to start

Matched Pair: 8 – The Basement


Three followed him across the gravel.

“Why?”, he asked.

“Because this girl thought it would please you”. She was careful not to catch his eye.

“Make a habit of thinking for others do you?”.

“No… sir”.

“I’m definitely not pleased. Not yet”. he stopped. She stopped. He  folded  his arms and looked her up and down. she was shivering fiercely now and her teeth were chattering.

“Get out of those wet things”. She looked around. “It doesn’t matter if we are alone or not” he said. She unbuttoned her mini skirt and pulled he blouse over her head. She was wearing a bra. “That too” he said. She complied, bundling her clothes up and clutching them in front of her chest. “Shoes”. she shucked them off. Instantly, she was tiny.

“Follow me”. There was a light now glowing from the house and they moved toward it.

They walked across the yard, briskly. She hobbled as she put her weight, step by step on the sharp gravel.. He took her wrist and guided her around the side of the house. Ahead was a well-lit stairwell, surrounded by wrought iron railings. He motioned her down. It was just a single flight down to a flagstone paved area a couple of metres wide. A wooden panelled door was open ahead of her and beyond that was light and a hubbub of conversation. Three looked right and could see patio windows extending the length of the space. Inside were the other three candidates, together on a heavily embroidered crimson sofa. The Girl was sitting opposite in a strange-looking chair, straight-backed and armless, with a seat held just off the floor by stumpy lion’s claw legs. The back was as wide as the seat, fully upholstered and with a narrow  bar, also padded, across the top that extended a few inches either side of the back. The Girl was naked. Unashamed. She had pulled her long, straight blonde hair free of its ponytail and was running her fingers through it and pulling and smoothing the mass of it over one shoulder, covering a breast and framing her face.

Girl with blonde hair

The Girl didn’t look vulnerable. She was clearly content in her nakedness and holding court.

The man ushered Three through the door into a small kitchen and then through an adjoining door into the room with the others.

“Darling, You were quick. I hope it’s right that I did not get started without you?”. She smiled. He nodded.

Min  sat herself on the arm of the sofa. There had been room to sit until Three had returned, but she knew getting up would be easier from the arm than the seat and she did not want to look clumsy. She looked at the man. he’d taken off his waxed jacket. He wore jeans and a blue jumper. The narrow collar of a light-coloured checked wool shirt protruded over the pullover’s neck, He had a round open face, with cool green eyes. He didn’t look overweight – but he didn’t look like he worked out either. He went and stood by the side of The Girl. She definitely didn’t work out. She was voluptuous. The girl had an almost constant smile and exuded a sort of homely friendliness. Min had yet to see the man look other than sullen, or quiet, or serious.

The girl rose from the chair and the man took the seat. She was tall, much taller than the man and this disguised her plumpness. Min thought her own tummy was a little smaller than The Girl’s but she was shorter – she didn’t look like a renaissance artist’s model. She’d been called Rubenesque before, but only, she knew because her lovers were being kind: She was fat.  She could never be naked in front of strangers like this.

The girl faced the man, put her palms together, straightened her elbows, placed her left foot behind her right, touching and at right ankles to it, and lowered her head until she was looking at his lap. The girl stood quite still. From behind she looked rounded, like a cello. The man nodded and she moved to the side of his chair, pulling out a large plump cushion from the base of a set of drawers and bookcases that lined the back of the large room. she sat, at his feet, back straight and legs curled under her. Min thought she looked amazing. She looked over to the bedraggled Three, standing dripping and naked on the tiled floor. Three was staring at the scene, Open-mouthed. Enraptured.

The girl clapped. “Silence” said the man, unnecessarily. He looked at his partner and Min saw him smile. His eyes twinkled, Suddenly he looked as avuncular as The Girl looked the mother hen. “Speak”, he said.

“Darlings. Welcome. We are so pleased you all came. We are going to spend the weekend getting to know you. Next week, after you’ve gone home,  he will decide who we would like to become our housegirl and playmate. He chooses – but he has agrees I can say no to his choice. So you must please both of us. We hope you will get to know us too, over the next couple of days and that whoever he chooses will want to spend the next year with us”.

“Tonight we are going to relax and get to know each other a bit. The only rule is you don’t ask us, or your fellow girls, your names or where you come from.”

“My man is going to leave us until supper, so it’s all girls together.”

“First though, some admin. At bedtime you will be locked in here. There will be a glass bottle on the kitchen table containing the key to the door to the main house – up the stair behind me – and the door you came through just now. The bottle is sealed with wax. You will not be able to open it undetectably. We expect you to stay here. But, in the event of a dire emergency you can use this to escape”.

“Number One, there are four black sacks on the table on your side of the sofa. Hand them out to your companions.

“Can you each put your clothes and any other personal belongings except your phones in the black sacks and then tie the lanyard you have been given around the neck of the sack. My man will take these away and return them to you before you all catch your train on Sunday.”

“Or before if you misbehave” added the man.

They looked at each other. By the door, Three was clearly wondering what to do with her stinking, soaking skirt and blouse. “In your bag like the rest” he said.

One looked the most unsure. Minnie stood: “It’s what I came here for. Can I keep the boot?” The man nodded.

Three was shoving all her stuff into her sack, rolling the top of the sack together and tying it into rabbits ears – she pulled the lanyard from around her neck and tied it around the bag.

One was helping Minnie to unstrap her boot and to pull off her leggings Min was already out of her coat, hoodie and top and reaching round to unhook her bra.

Two stood and removed her jacket, folding it carefully, She unzipped her skirt and wiggled it down to her ankles, lifting her feet out of it without removing her shoes and then laying the skirt on the jacket.

She unbuttoned the plain, white high collared blouse and folded that too. She stood there. Black fully fashioned stockings were held up by a four strap, wide , black suspender belt. Her breasts were presented on a balconette polka-dotted bra. There were no knickers. Her pubis was smooth and pink and bald. She almost posed and then completed the business of getting naked.

Stepping away with Min’s surgical boot in her hand One realised she was the only clothed woman left in the room. She blushed. “May I help her?” asked The Girl. The man nodded.

The girl unfolded her long legs, stood and walked over to Number One. She lifted One’s arms over her head and turned her so she was facing the windows into the moonlit garden. The girl put her thumbs into one’s waistband and then knelt, pulling down One’s leggings and knickers in one swift movement. She turned her again so One faced the man. The girl took hold of One’s cashmere jersey and tee-shirt and hauled them unceremoniously over her head as one garment. One felt a seam go in one of the sleeves as The Girl wrenched it over the shoulder. Instinctively One pushed The Girl away but she was fast and strong. The Girl grabbed One’s wrist and twisted and pushed it up her back, turning her again. Letting go she pushed One down onto the sofa and sat on her, reaching down and pulling her boots off and the leggings and panties from around her ankles.

The girl stood and delivered a resounding slap to One’s left buttock, then tugged her to her feet and kissed her full on the mouth. One responded. The girl drew away, grinning and resumed her seat on the floor by the man. He leaned down to The Girl. “You take much upon yourself”.

He looked at the candidates. “Modesty will get you nowhere and everywhere” he said.

Last: Showers

Next: Indelible Marker


Matched Pair: 7 – Showers

A Honda GX160 5.5 HP. pressure washer in action.
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

He came out of the barn trundling a pressure washer and a reel of electric cable. He unwound  the heavy-duty extension lead and plugged it into the yellow pressure washer. Hauling a hose from another reel on the barn wall, he screwed that into the side of the washer. He pressed the trigger. The motor started and  a second later the jet hissed out of the nozzle. He motioned to three to stand by the low barn wall, under the eaves.

He walked the jet across the drive, letting her see its power, swirling the gravel out of its way. He lifted the lance over the truck tailgate and flushed the remains of three’s vomit off the floor and swilled it onto the gravel. He swirled the jet around again, so the solid fragments disappeared into the drain.

He let go the trigger. Silence.

“Against the wall”. She did, feeling the grain of the ancient oak weatherboarding through her blouse.

“Face me”.  She turned. There seemed no reluctance.

Wood Grain
Wood Grain (Photo credit: Chrstopher)

“Very well. Stand quite still”. He pulled the trigger again and the washer jet hissed out, its tone changing as he lifted it to drum on the wooden barn wall beside her. Within seconds, she was soaked from the spray.

He dropped the lance and let the jet play on the brick courses of the wall, just above ground level. She could see the lime cement liquefying and dripping from between the bricks. She gasped and gratefully recognised why he had not pointed the lance straight at her body. He moved the jet across and opened the nozzle, making the spray more diffuse. He let it play on the platform soles of her shoes. Gravel and stinging water suddenly burned her legs. She skipped away.

“Don’t dance” he said: “Do you trust me?” She whimpered, but nodded.

“Time for a hair wash, Ready? Stand quite still” Three breathed in, closed her eyes.

“Open your eyes”. Three did. The shiny brass tip of the washer’s black lance was a metre from her forehead. The man’s finger curled on the trigger. And he lifted the lance, spraying the jet into the soffit above three’s head. A great cascade of freezing water and thatch debris cascaded upon her. She flinched, cowered and then stood straight. He opened the spray nozzle wider, lowered the jet a tad and let clean water fall on her.

“Rotate” he said. She did – grinning, laughing and pirouetting, for all the world like the plastic, pink ballerina inside the lid of her first jewellery box. But that didn’t last. She had to put up her hands to bat away the debris ceaselessly falling on her. The rush that had hit her with the shock of freezing, blasting water was replaced with nothing but numbing cold. Her lips were blue, she shook ceaselessly, she cowered now, she could hardly stand. She crouched, her head In her hands and hid in the corner of the wall. She wept. He opened the nozzle as far it would go and let the  mist, most of it’s power gone, soak her.

The pressure washer stopped: “how useful are you now?” He asked. “Could you serve anyone? Does this make you useful to me?”

“Is there a service I can give?” she wept. Then she tossed her hair and looked straight at him, a little pride in her voice: “And have I not given service now?”.

He said “Follow me”.

Last: Accommodation

Next: The Basement


Matched Pair 6 – Accomodation

They’d swung about in the back of the car for, Minnie thought, 20 minutes or so.

Miss Lawyer had tried to break the ice but the male voice in the passenger seat asked her to be silent. He even said please – which Min found surprising.

It was an apprehensive silence, Min thought: She was no longer sure she was safe. She felt flushed and empty – nervous and a little out of control:  Her mouth was dry but a little musky dribble had escaped into her knickers. She had thought she’d feel panicked or scared when it came to this moment. The truth was she was sick with excitement.

When she woke that morning she’d decided that she wasn’t going to make the journey. Her leg, she’d told herself, was enough to make this whole thing too much of an ordeal. But she kept looking at the envelope on her dressing table with the outward part of a return rail ticket. She kept telling herself that this would change her life even if she failed and it was just the one exotic, crazy, erotic weekend, And, if she was chosen, it was still her choice. She could say thanks for the ride and walk away.

Lost in the Dark (Halloween horror story)
Photo credit: tommyscapes

Min had one hand on the icy top rail of the Land Rover‘s side and the other wrapped round Number One, who had tried clinging to the sticks supporting the canvas roof, before realising they were anything but rigid. Number One was now pushing herself back against the side and clutching the bulkhead between her and the cab. The slab sided seats, the lack of safety restraints, the restraint attached to their legs that was anything but safe – and their lack of anything but tiny glimpses of metal and canvas from the corners of their eyes – forced them all to push themselves together and hold on to each other. It felt like the worse sort of white knuckle ride –  the engine was rumbling noisily, but in a restrained fashion. Min thought they probably weren’t going that fast.

They braked and  swung right and the drone of tarmac changed to the crunch of gravel. The vehicle slowed and the girls found themselves bunching together even tighter. Number Two slipped off her seat  on to the aluminium floor. Branches and leaves slithered over the canvas’s sides and top as they negotiated a bumpy, narrow driveway. They slid to a stop a little too suddenly and Min found herself with a head in her lap, a sudden wet heat, the feel of chunky, stinking fragments trickling down her leggings and the sound of retching.

She tore her glasses off – it was the barging blonde. “Jesus”. “shit”.

The tailgate came down and the man stood there again. He pushed his flat cap onto the back of his head, revealing curly greying hair and a wrinkled brow. Which furrowed. He said nothing.

Behind her Min  heard the sound of the heavy canvas fume curtain being pushed to one side and the driver, a buxom, tall blonde woman in her late forties or early fifties, looked round. Her beaming smile disappeared but her lilting, Welsh voice came, confident and caring: “Oh dear, oh dear. Don’t worry, we’ll sort you all out. Darling, let’s get them inside and cleaned up”.

The man looked grim. But nodded. he unlocked the end of the chain securing them all that was nearest the tailgate and handed the keys to number one, gesturing. The remaining padlock was swiftly removed.

The man zipped up his Barbour and gingerly helped Min -and then the others – down. The chains jingled as they slid between them and onto the ground. They were still all linked together.

“Keep those shades on”. “If you were mine,” he said “I’d hose the car down and then hose you lot down for the inconvenience. But you aren’t”.

“Darling girl, take them in and get them showered will you”. He stomped off.

“Please sir.” The blonde, bargee stood there, eyes downcast, vomit dripping from her chin and down her denim mini skirt and over her thighs and knees.”Please sir, if it would please you, you can hose down this girl sir. It was this girl’s fault, please sir”.

Min turned her head so she could just see the girl, to her right, in the gap behind her opaque spectacles. The man stopped. Looked at the speaker. “Why?” he asked: “Does the idea excite you, number three?”.

“No sir.” The blonde shivered and not just, Min thought, from the cold. The blonde tossed her spattered hair but said nothing more.

“Darling, it would make you so much feel better” broke in the man’s partner, perfectly seriously and without a trace of mischief or distress for Number Three’s situation: “Besides, it’s beastly out here – can’t I get the others in out of the cold?”

“Very well. Unshackle yourself and follow the car, Three. Give my girl your glasses”. Three bent and unbuckled her ankle cuff.

They waited as the Land Rover trundled off. Min could see her two remaining comrades were, like her,  twisting and turning their heads to get a glimpse of events. The car moved toward a barn-like building a few metres off, the blonde followed at an ungainly trot.

“Dears – do come on, we’ll all catch our deaths” bubbled the man’s partner: “Lets go in and get clean and warm. I’m The Girl by the way, but you can just call me Girl”.

Still shackled and wearing their darkened glasses, the three shuffled off toward the left hand corner of the large stone and brick-built house that they sensed more than saw. It was unlit and there was little twilight left.

They followed the beam of the girl’s torch. Minnie was hobbling and Number One’s stride pulled her forward with each second step. She cursed as she almost toppled. ‘The girl’ stopped and tutted, not unpleasantly: “Girls I’m so sorry, I can’t unshackle you or let you see. You must co-operate with each other. Being in step might help.”.

“Hands on shoulders?” suggested two. “And I’ll call left-right” said girl one. “Good”, agreed The Girl: “hold my hand one and I’ll lead”. They shuffled on, more confidently.

Behind them a bright, yellow security light went on, throwing huge shadows, and  they heard the sudden hum and sputter of a pressure washer.

Last: Journey

Next: Showers


Matched Pair: 5 – Journey

The five women stood, not looking at each other. A car door slammed. It didn’t clunk. It just banged: It wasn’t the limo. It was the passenger door of a green Series II Land Rover with a canvas tilt. It had seen better days.

A dark brown Labrador fussed around the driver’s feet. He gestured at the dog and she sat at his heel, tongue-lolling. It was the guy in the cap. He hadn’t been on the train.

“Welcome ladies, I see five of you made it. Well, it could have been worse”.

He reached into the pocket of his well patinated Barbour and pulled out a number of plain red lanyards, each linked through a swivel to a plain white card.

“For the remainder of the time you spend here you are a number. Not a name. This is for your anonymity and my pleasure. I do hope none of you have introduced yourselves yet. If you have, try to forget”.

Minny looked down, the number pressed into her hand was five. The man went on down the line, looking at the girl, giving her a number. Until he came to the woman in black.

Land Rover II2 series 88
Land Rover II2 series 88 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“You brought luggage. It’s bad enough that most of you have brought bags. The letter you received said bring nothing”. He looked up at the woman, tottering on her heels: “You may think yourself a vision of submissive loveliness. But you are disobedient and you think you know what I want.

“Here is your return ticket. The next train is also the last train. It leaves here (he glanced at his watch) at 20:15. Quarter past eight”. He passed on and gave the last woman. little miss Lawyer, a lanyard.

“Come with me…”, he dropped the tail gate on the faded bronze green Land Rover and gestured them forward. “Not you” he raised his hand to the woman in the corset. “You have your ticket home”.

She protested: “Shit man – you can see I’m the best here”.

“You assume you are. Which means you are not”. He gently pulled Minny forward: “Which leg is it – both?” he asked. “My right said” Min, biting back “you just have to bloody look”. He took her crutches and opened the driver’s door, handing them to someone inside the cab. He took her arm and escorted her to the rear of the car.

“What about me” weedled the princess. “Get your train” said the man. “I’ll freeze” she said. “Here take this”. He grabbed a dog blanket from the truck bed and threw it at her, not ungently. “have it as a souvenir or leave it on the platform. Digger will miss it”. She let it lie on the damp shingle and stared at him, red-polished nails on one black lycra-clad hip. “You won’t get better” she bawled.

Minny cursed her ankle. One vodka and coke too many and a frozen front step on the way out to the takeaway. A phone that was out of credit and a housemate who couldn’t, at first, be bothered to see what her shouts were about. An evening in casualty and a week in bed. Her leg was damn sore now and she cursed it as one more thing that set her apart from these pretty, confident women.

“Number one” he barked “give number five a hand.” He motioned the pretty woman with the plait and, Minny noted, no bag, into the back and together they hoisted Minny onto the tailgate. The inside smelt of damp canvas, motor oil, and dog.

“The rest of you – in and secure yourselves”.

There were rudimentary black vinyl benches running along each side of the back of the truck but no sign of any seatbelts. Instead, along the centre of the milled aluminium floor lay a heavy galvanised chain padlocked to a a u-bolt at each end and running through another in the middle. Four smaller chains extended from this laterally, with a brown, well-dubbined, cuff at the end of each. The chains weren’t long enough to extend up to the girls’ wrists.

Number one took off one of her soft brown fleecy boots and attached the cuff to her ankle. Gently she leaned over and motioned to Min to raise her leg. Min did, her left, and soon she was “secured” too. The man looked on silently whilst numbers two and three did likewise.

The man reached into another pocket and brought out pairs of cheap sunglasses which he passed up to Min. “Put a pair on and pass the rest around”. Min did so, finding that the inside of the lenses were sprayed matt black. She could see stuff out of the corners of her eyes, but she was sure none of them could have any clear idea of where they were going.

The guy slammed up the tailgate and secured the tarp. The light was still on in the cab behind her and, looking down and to the left, Min could see that his hands weren’t those of a young man. They heard the passenger door open, shut and then the engine start. The fume curtain was down, but, squinting, Minnie was certain she could see wisps of long blonde hair blowing around the back of the driver’s seat.

They drove away into the winter gloom.

Min could hear the woman they’d left shouting obscenities as they rolled away. They turned left. Gravel turned to tarmac.

Last: Arrival

Next: Accomodation

Matched Pair: 4 – Arrival

Minny gingerly stepped off the train and took her crutches from the conductor. She thanked the woman, who’d helped her when she transferred to this little branch line and had been solicitous ever since. She cursed her accident and the grey plastic boot she had to wear. Bang went any chance of making an impression.

English: Craven Arms station from the footbridge
Photo credit: Wikipedia

There was no ticket barrier at this small, bleak Shropshire station. The wind whipped across the almost empty platform and the car park beyond. No-one was there to collect tickets.

The journey had seemed endless. Stops every ten minutes and just one or two people getting on or off each time. There was no buffet car and she’d been too nervous to have breakfast. She’d made do with a Mars Bar pocketed at Temple Mead’s branch of WH Smith. She’d never stolen anything before. But she hadn’t felt hungry for breakfast at all (anxiety? excitement?) and waiting for the early afternoon train she’d given in to temptation. The instruction had been “come in the clothes you stand up in. Bring your phone and nothing else”. She had taken that literally.

She looked down the platform and hobbled toward the gap in the chain-link fencing. She wasn’t the only person who’d got off this far from anywhere. There was a guy in a cap with a dog and four other women. One she’d shared a carriage with. She’d looked up from her phone several times to notice the other woman staring at her.  She’d been texting her boyfriend.

She explained she’d be out of touch for a few days. He’d seemed relieved rather than anxious, or even interested. He’d been like that for a while. Since his last visit to Bristol back in November she thought: things had cooled pretty quickly since he went back tolive with his mum and dad after uni. ended.

The other women who’d got off the train she’d not seen before – well not since Bristol, where one, an untidy blonde in a short denim skirt had barged past her, shoving Minny into an old guy overburdened with his wife’s clothes shopping.

They were all looking at her though – and at each other – The guy strode off, his dog tidily at his heel and she was left with, she presumed, her competitors. “No chance” she thought.

A pair of ugg boots
Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The girl who had spent the journey watching Minny looked a little older than her, maybe late twenties. Minny thought she was genuinely beautiful. Dark denim skinny jeans, Ugg boots and the longest hair Minny had seen in a while. Brown, but not drab like hers, glossy, shiny, it hung in a single rope plait over her left shoulder, as thick as Minny’s arm at the top, the plait descended past the girl’s waist. She was playing nervously with the end of it. Minny saw that, like her, but unlike any of the other women, she had no bag of any sort.

Teetering on the highest of platform heels was the barging blonde – who now towered head and shoulders over Minny. She swore that woman had been in flats when she’d sent Minny skittering. She had – she could see the leopard print toes peeking from the top of her bag. She was still a barger – she shoved past Minny and the third woman, who could have passed for a junior solicitor, but perhaps from a few decades ago. Her suit looked like it had come out of a 40’s movie: Minny watched the woman very deliberately sashay in front of her, each buttock rising and falling. The seams of her stockings descending below the hem of the nayy blue pencil skirt were impeccably straight. Her stilettos were black, patent courts of a conservative height. But, boy – could she move. Minny found herself wanting to see the lingerie, at least, under the suit and blouse. She inadvertently licked her lips.

English: A pair of high heeled shoe with 12cm ...
Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The third woman was the oldest there.

Descending from the other end of the train and already almost opposite the gap in the fence, she wore black from head to foot. A mane of artfully curled “this just ain’t natural” jet black hair framed a tanning shop addict’s face with lips red enough to spot the pout from a considerable distance. Her leather jacket was open and no bra was being worn: the woman’s breasts lay pert on the shelf of a black velvet under-bust corset with a row of chrome fastenings across the busk. She twisted and Minny formed the view that there was probably nothing being worn under the leggings either, the way Ms Black’s buttocks were displayed, curved and separate below the neatly laced corset. Patent ankle boots, again with considerable heels, made her small, globular buttocks even more emphatic. Minnie appreciated the constant effort it must take to keep a body like that. Long red nails curled round the handle of a pull-along vanity case. Even the barging blonde stopped to let her through. As the sound of the departing train fell away all you could hear was the sound of her heels, and her wheels, trapping and trundling over the gravel towards a big black Jaguar, one of only four or five cars parked there, all of which appeared driverless.

The woman Minny thought might be candidate number five had stepped off the train and lit up a cigarette straightaway. She looked as nervous as Minny felt. She also looked about sixteen. She wore trainers, black leggings and a grey hoodie. One ear glinted with silver studs curving right round the lobe. She had another in her nose. The cigarette was a roll-up. She blew a thin stream of smoke at the grey sky.

A Vox-y 5-inches
Photo credit: Renée S. Suen

Minny knew they must all be there for the same reason as her. She wasn’t going to be what this guy wanted, she could see that straight away. Not compared to them. She thought of getting the next train back to Bristol – even though that meant a cold December afternoon kicking her heels on this uncovered platform in the middle of nowhere. But she had no money and no ticket. She had no choice. She told herself she’d learn something, she’d get fed, she’d get (she’d been told) put back on the train on Sunday night. Maybe she’d get laid. Maybe she was screwed.

With the others she walked off the platform and into the car park.

Last – The Application

Next – Journey

Matched Pair – 3: Application

email logo

From: 16:59 9 November 2014 To:

Hi (what do I call you, sir?, sir and madam?), I saw the personal ad. you posted  on some BDSM websites. Are you serious? Is the – whaddya call it job? position? appointment? still open? Can you tell me more about the job? What do I do to get it?


From: 21:02 11 November 2014

Dear girl,

The position is still open. For the purposes of shortlisting you should download this file ( Belasarius_BDSM_dashboard_4.01 ), fill it in and return it to me. It”ll tell us (and maybe you) a bit about them kind of kinkster you are. Also you should tell me why you want the job and why you want what will be a highly demanding position and one which will change you (and the way others see you) permanently.  At this time you do not need to know anything more about the job other than that which I have published already.

From: 21:04 11 November 2014

Err, yeah OK. I just really want to know what you expect from me – I mean, I’m just a girl – nothing special to look at, a bit overweight – not fat you know just ordinary. No one thinks I’m sexy I’m no blonde sex-bomb.

Yours sincerely,


From: 08:16 12 November 2014 To:

I don’t expect anything from you. Our ad. makes it clear what I hope to do with you. If you want that to happen to you and know it will involve irreversible change (and want that too) then you’ll have fun. If it stops being fun, you can stop too.

From: 17:01 12 November 2012

OK, I’ve done your form. Here it is. I expect that is the last I’ll hear isn’t it.


From: 23:59 4 December 2012

Shits. Not even a reply.

From: 08:00 5 December 2012 2012To:

You’d have had an acknowledgment if you’d done as I asked. You didn’t bother. Why should I?

From: 17:59 5 December 2012

Hah – it’s just a bloody fantasy anyway isn’t it. Well, I don’t want a fantasy. so you can fuck off.


From: 18:01 5 December 2012 2012To:

Your choice. Carry on living your life or tell me why you want to change.

From: 18:33 5 December 2012

I’m ordinary, I’ve spent my life being ordinary, I’ve spent my life being the fat friend (but I’m not fat, see). I get to tag along. And up to now I’ve done everything my mum and dad wanted, I went to uni and I wind up in this fucking call centre. It’s only worth doing if I drive more than twenty people mad every hour otherwise it’s just minimum wage.

I’ve always dreamed of being special. It sounded like you’d make me special – cos I’m not going to ever be special if I carry on like this. I am just going to be me. Part of me thinks I want to be someone people look at. Part of me wants to be pushed to be like that. Otherwise I am someone’s daughter who is going to be someone’s wife and someone’s mother and never ME.

I live in Bristol and my mum and dad and my boyfriend are in Leeds. He doesn’t bother with me much either. After Christmas no-one would miss me for a few weeks, maybe a couple of months. If you are real that is enough time for you to show me I’m doing the right thing, isn’t it?


From: 08:00 6 December 2014 To:

If you get through I’ll use you for my satisfaction. If that suits you and you like it you’ll do well. If it doesn’t you can leave.

I’ll interview you. Joining instructions shortly,

 Last: The Advertisement

Next: Arrival

Matched Pair – 2 The Advertisement.

She hit return. Reluctantly. The laptop let out a small important bong . He patted her shoulder. He grinned. Her smile was less enthusiastic.  He’d been precise about what he wanted. She’d put his ideas into words. They’d spent the afternoon worrying those words into shape. This was the third and last fetish website they’d put it on.

She wasn’t convinced this was a good idea. A great fantasy, yes. And when he’d talked about it in bed that morning she participated eagerly, thinking it was just a game. It was the kind of game he played – “Desert Island Doms” he called it.

But he made it clear he was serious. And that he’d thought it through. He’d been clear about risks and pitfalls and thought them worth it. She was far less sure.

“I’m not looking for someone new for us to love” he said “I’m looking to please myself by making us a toy. Someone who is happy to be changed by me and who goes into it with her eyes fully open. I don’t care if you don’t like it. But I do care if you think it is going to change what we have. I’m going to do all I can to make sure that doesn’t happen. And that no-one involved feels more used than they want to be”.

Her pledge to him meant that this choice was his to make and that she had no choice but to help him make it possible. Well, she could say no. He’d been very clear about that from the beginning. Nothing for her hurt or shame and a no from her would always mean no: But it was up to her to make their shared dreams possible through compliance and obedience. Too many limits, they both knew, made what they were feel less than real. What he proposed was not designed to hurt her she knew, and he was sincere about hoping it would make her feel more, not less cherished.  But she felt a touch of jealousy already, just knowing that he wanted to make a reality of being a D/s household, rather than just him and her. Worse, he was planning to do to someone all the many things they’d agreed he couldn’t do to her. she was scared he’d put more effort into the new toy than he did into making herself uniquely his: She fought the idea – but knew she’d need to face him with it soon.

They looked at the screen:

We will rebuild you.

Established D/s couple require a girl to join their dynamic. You will have few or no tattoos or piercings at the moment but will want with all your heart and mind to take part in an extreme body modification programme over which you will have no control once we all agree your limits.

Initially this will be a one year contract, extendable by agreement, subject to a one month trial during which no permanent changes will be made to you. You will be paid a generous salary, plus free clothing, grooming, furnishing, board and lodging. You will have no cash at any time. Your salary will be paid into a trust fund that only you can use but which you will only access when you decide to leave or we let you go.

You will be able to agree limits on what is done to you but we will have no interest in anyone who does not have the widest possible boundaries. Nothing will be done to you without your full informed consent. Your consent will expect to extend to things (other than anything that is a permanent change to you that you absolutely agree you have consented to but may not wish to do at the time when they are demanded of you.

You will help with the running of the household, undertaking domestic duties and taking charge of the principal submissive’s personal grooming. You will be be sexually available as required and accept physical chastisement in the event of non-performance of any duty.

Persistent disobedience or lack of effort will end the contract.

Personal qualities should include a voracious sexual appetite, a desire to excel, diligence and an eye for detail. You won’t be content in this role if you do not have strong exhibitionist tendencies. You will enjoy formality in your personal relationships.

Replies to this advertisement within the next week will be considered for the post.There will be an assessment centre and interview before appointment.

Next: The Application

Last: The Lottery Win