With the binoculars Justin could easily make out the name of the yacht pulling rhythmically at its anchor in the bay. She was called "Scharnhorst", but her impressive fifty feet or so didn't quite match up to the original bearer of the name. Beneath the middle mast were the only visible people aboard, two naked females, lying face down on large brightly coloured beach towels. White bottoms betrayed the fact they usually sunbathed in bikinis. They were motionless as if asleep when a call came from below decks. The two girls rose and began rolling up their towels, while Justin allowed the angle of his field glasses to drop. Both girls were shaved clean as a whistle, so it was impossible to say if they were true blondes. Teutonic sisters, Justin assumed, considering the name of the boat, so he went with the blondes’ notion. As they tucked the towels beneath their arms they were joined by a man in his mid fifties. He went across and ran the back of his hand down each girl's smooth slot, then all three disappeared below decks. Justin lowered the glasses, weighing them carefully in his hand.

"Such wonderful things," he thought. "They let you see so far ahead of yourself." He allowed himself a satisfied smile as he pondered the possibility of time binoculars, for letting you see into the future. If a few days ago he had seen what lay ahead of him, he would have taken them back to the shop, saying they were broken. And if David had owned a pair, he would never have invited Justin to stay and he wouldn't be attached to a cock chain at the beck and call of Sabrina.

The two men had once been close friends at university, but Justin had been forced to drop out because of money, or lack of it. The last he'd heard of David he was in a Manchester general, hospital: by then Justin was busy running his own business installing exhibitions in museums and galleries.

He held the contracts on three major travelling exhibitions which were going to be making the rounds for several years ahead, and it was at one of the openings for these he had bumped into his old friend. David stood, wine glass in hand, in front of a small bronze of a naked woman. He appeared to be studying the sculpture intently, making occasional comments to a companion whom Justin took to be his wife, although she looked as if she were only just out of her teens. For a moment Justin watched him, as if assuring himself it was his old friend and not someone else, then he approached cautiously and cleared his throat to attract attention.

There was a brief moment of indecision before David exclaimed, "Jesus, Justin. I can't believe it!"

The two shook hands violently, both obviously very happy to see the other again.

"Come and get a drink," David almost shouted, "It's been absolutely ages. What are you doing here?" He guided Justin in the direction of the courtesy bar while the woman walked along behind, almost unnoticed. As he picked up a glass of Rioja, Justin remembered his manners, apologised and asked her what she would like. The woman looked enquiringly at David who told her to try the Rioja too.

"This is Charlotte," said David by way of an introduction. "A friend. Everyone calls her Charlie." Justin smiled politely while Charlie reciprocated by licking away some drops of red wine from her lips. "Here!" David offered Justin another glass of wine, "let's sit down, we've got so much to catch up on."

All three made their way to the seating area, where the men sat on the benches against the wall and Charlie sat in an armchair facing them. Hers was a low cushioned seat which meant her skirt rode up, exposing the very tops of her stockings, and Justin thought he caught a glimpse of black pantied crotch. Charlie made no attempt to cover her exposed thighs and for reasons Justin could not fathom, David never looked at her legs once.

They talked for over an hour before David looked at his watch and said they had to leave, but not before he had invited his old friend down to Camelot, his hideaway cottage, not too far away from Tintagel. Justin thought it would make a break and agreed to go.

When the weekend arrived, Justin drove down to Tintagel, set on the Atlantic seaboard of Cornwall. David had promised to meet him at the old post office, in order to guide him to the cottage.

"Unless you knew it was there," he had said, "you would never find it." Tourists lined the old post office wall like starlings on a telegraph wire, David amongst them. The two men greeted each other warmly and made for the nearest pub for lunch, both ordering the peppered trout.

"Do we have time for a visit to the castle?" asked Justin. "I haven't been here since I was a kid on a family holiday." David looked at his watch before shaking his head.

"Sorry," he said, "Charlie's husband will be here soon to pick her up. I've got to get back to see her off." Justin flashed a quizzical grin across the table.

"She hasn't been at your place since Wednesday, has she?"

"Not since Wednesday, no." he replied. "For the last month."

Justin held up his open hand. "Enough said," he smiled. "None of my business." David wiped his mouth with the paper napkin and threw it on his plate.

"Come on," he said. "We'd better get going." They made their way to the car park to where they had parked within ten yards of each other. "Stay close," David warned. "It's a hard place to find."

Within fifteen minutes the two vehicles had pulled off the main road and were travelling down a potholed dust track towards what looked to Justin like a cliff. The sea, calm and hazy blue lay just beyond. Suddenly the cars dipped as the track fell off in a steep incline and David brought his car to a halt alongside a large shabby wooden shack, gesturing to Justin to do the same. By the time Justin had wound down his window, David had opened the door to the shack.

"Put your car inside. We have to walk from here," he laughed. "I hope you're fit?" They walked a good five minutes before the path dropped further still and the old stone cottage came into view. The two stumbled their way down along a path hardly wide enough for one person.

"It's very isolated," said Justin. Without taking his eyes off the stone strewn path, David answered:

"Precisely."

The front door stood between two huge storm-shuttered windows which faced the sea. The storm shutters were a necessity in winter when the Atlantic gales blew angry and determined against the cottage walls. They were open that day, allowing the summer sun to flood the house, bouncing its warming rays off the various brass instruments that filled the rooms.

"Have a sit down, Justin. I won't be a minute. I want to see if Charlie has left yet." David closed the door while Justin sat himself down in a large leather bound chair and gazed thoughtfully out to sea.

Upstairs Charlie was struggling into a very tight corset. David entered her room, went across and put his knee into the small of her back, then with the laces wrapped around his hands he pulled the garment tight around her.

"Is he here?" she asked.

"No, it's just a friend," answered David, slipping a hand down the front of the pants. He ran his thumb and forefinger down each lip of her smooth mound. "You've forgotten your rings," he said quietly. Charlie's eyes widened as she gasped her apologies.

"It's the excitement of seeing Paul again. I'm sorry! Please don't punish me. Not today." She fell to her knees in front of him, her forehead pressed against the carpet. "I don't want Paul to see my bottom with cane stripes, not today." He left her face down and moved across to the wall where several canes hung in a display. Choosing one of the light ones he whipped it through the air behind her, watching her bottom clench as she heard the whoosh of its movement.

"Assume the position," he ordered.

In an instant Charlie had pulled her knickers down to her knees and was bent over the brass metalwork at the foot of her bed.

"Please," she begged. "I've been totally obedient for two weeks. Don't cane me now."

He didn't really want to punish her on her last day. She had been a good student and he had enjoyed teaching her. He had even taken her out a week earlier than usual because she was so servile. To cane her now would look bad to Paul and that could reflect on business, but he couldn't let her go unpunished. Spare the rod, as the old saying went, and spoil your slave. He moved to the side of the bed and placed the cane in front of her face before going to stand behind her. He didn't usually fuck the girls on their last day as he liked to keep them tight for their new master, but Charlie had to learn that you must never forget who you are and what you are. He pulled the black satin knickers right off her then released his cock. Anyway, he thought, Charlie was one of his favourites, so why not have one last fuck just for himself. He eased his swollen dick along her purse, feeling her warmth and wetness along the full length of his prick.

"Is this better than the cane?" he asked. Charlie's body juddered as he withdrew himself before driving his cock home again.

"Yes master," she cried. "Thank you, thank you." David would have heard the downstairs door open had he not been concentrating on getting his cock in Charlie's mouth in time for her to drink his come. As it happened, she was licking his liquid from his shaft when Justin shouted up the stairs that Charlie's husband had arrived. When she heard that, Charlie's eyes lit up, but she remained at her task until David allowed her up.

"Don't get too excited," he reminded her. "Now fetch your labial restraints and I'll help you dress." Charlie fetched the golden loops from her jewellery box and handed them to David to thread through her pierced labia, which he did with the speed of a practised hand. He watched her finish dressing then said he ws going down to meet Paul, and would ring for her when they were ready.

He found Paul in the morning room chatting idly with Justin. It was the first time David had seen Charlie's husband since he had left her there exactly one month ago. That was one of David's rules. Once the deal was signed, no letters or phone calls and half the fee up front. If everyone knew the rules there was never any problem.

"Sorry Paul," he said. "I should have told Justin where the drinks are. What would you like?" Paul got up from his seat, reaching a hand inside his jacket to pull out his cheque book.

"If it's all right with you I'd like to be on my way." There was a tremor of excitement in his voice. "Is she ready?" David poured himself a measure of Glenfiddich, inquired if Justin would like the same, which he did, then turned again to Paul.

"She's ready." Justin watched as the noughts on the cheque continued along to two thousand pounds. Whatever David did for a living, he thought, he must do it well. Paul tore the cheque from the book and handed it over.

"Where is she?"

"Will you excuse us for a minute, Justin?" said David. "I'll just be in the other room. Help yourself to drinks." He led Charlie's husband across the hallway to another room where he told him to pull a cord that hung alongside the fireplace. Upstairs a bell rang as a signal for Charlie to come down. As befitting a newly trained slave she did not keep them waiting long. Her entrance was met with a mixture of emotions: Paul, excited at the lifetime of pleasure his submissive wife would provide, and David, anxious that the hours of work he had put in to training her would not let him down. She did not smile at her husband, although her heart leapt with joy. She had wanted to serve him, obey him as her vows demanded, that was why she agreed to come to David. He had shown her how a man should be treated; with respect, with awe. She brought herself before him and dropped to her knees.

"Master! You are back," she cried. "I am yours. My body. My soul." Both men turned to face each other, triumphant. She was truly a slave. Without saying a word they dropped into opposite chairs. Charlie remained on her knees, arms by her sides.

"Does she use her mouth now?" Paul asked. David flicked the palms of his hands skywards.

"Try her."

"Charlie," coughed Paul, his voice coarse with excitement. "Come here, take out my cock and take it into your mouth." His new slave crawled across on hands and knees, stopped between his legs and removed his cock. Without hesitation she drew it hungrily into her mouth. Paul watched amazed as his wife, the very woman once so disgusted by the act of fellatio, sucked and drooled along the length of his rapidly swelling muscle. "What of the rest?" he asked. David downed the last of his whisky.

"I've relaxed her anus and removed any inhibitions whatsoever, including any in that direction. Your pleasure is hers."

"And what of the labial restraints?"

"In place."

"Stand up," commanded Paul, "I want to see your Venus rings." Across the hallway, Justin was searching for some ice to take the sting out of his Glenfiddich. Failing to find any he made for the opposite room, stopping dead in his tracks in the hall. Through the gap in the door jamb he saw Charlie standing in a tight waspie and stockings while David and her husband examined two golden rings which hung from her labia. Thoughts of fetching any ice had melted at the sight of the two men tugging at the golden circles that dangled and glistened between her legs. Unbelievably, Charlie appeared detached from the entire scene, staring straight ahead. No, not right ahead, she was actually watching him as he looked on. She had spotted him spying on them and simply stood there, silent and accepting. God! What was she doing?

Suddenly Paul finished toying with her and asked to see his hallmark. At his instruction Charlie bent forward to push out her arse which both men examined.

"Excellent artistry, don't you agree?" asked David. Paul studied the small tattoo of his family crest more closely.