After drying my body, I examined myself in a full-length mirror while holding my blonde hair behind my head. It was the first time I had fully removed my pubes. The depilatory cream worked quickly, possibly because my hairs were fine and wispy. Hairless and naked, my slim body looked four or five years younger than my real age.

I had small, firm tits, a flat stomach, a pert ass and athletic thighs. The only features that seemed to belong to a 21-year-old were my dark red nipples which were large in comparison to my 'A' cup tits. My skin was very fair, which was common among Eastern European girls, as was blonde or light brown hair.

I pulled on the thong and wasn't surprised to find that about an inch of my pudendal cleft was clearly visible through the triangular piece of diaphanous material, when standing to attention. I had worn thongs when I was first dating but hated exposing my whole ass to the elements. I liked the bra which fitted me perfectly. It lifted my small tits and gave me a cleavage.

I pulled on the stockings and stepped into a pair of black stilettoes, then strolled around my bedroom. I felt like a whore and looked like one, which was clearly Melvin Watson's aim. However, once I was fully dressed in the blouse, skirt and jacket, my persona changed entirely into a smart, sexy, executive type.

Knowing that my journey into the real underworld was just about to begin, I hurried down to my Mini and pulled out the photograph Melvin had given me. On the back were two addresses, the first of which I tapped into the SatNav. Enfield was tricky to get to, but the traffic at 11.10 was light, so I made it with a couple of minutes to spare. I parked outside the huge Victorian mansion and killed the engine.

I sat tapping the leather steering wheel for a moment, wrestling with my feelings. I couldn't run away from my mortgage. Melvin had seen to that by seizing most of the cash I had in the account by transferring the majority of my bank balance. I could run to Poland where my family lived, but I hated the society and hardly spoke the language.

It was one solution, but if the company prosecuted me, I would be arrested and hauled back to England. There really was no hiding in Europe so I'd have to flee even further afield to somewhere like South America. Melvin's final words to me before he left the office were imprinted on my brain. 'Zoe, you belong to me now and I take ownership very seriously'. The aggressive manner in which Melvin delivered the statement chilled me to the bone.

Once I entered the mansion on the hill there would be no turning back and my life would be changed forever. On the flipside, I faced an even worse future. Banged up for most of my twenties, I'd lose my entire youth and re-emerge into a different world. So, taking Melvin's option kept me in the outside world and the possibility of escaping somewhere down the line.

I stepped out of the Mini and started the gut-wrenching walk up the steep drive to the front door. Beside the imposing entrance was a brass plaque with the legend:

The Petrosal Social Club

Members only.

I pressed the brass bell and waited. The door was answered by a young white woman dressed in a black satin maid's dress, complete with a white apron trimmed with lace. It was similar to the kinky party outfits I had seen on the internet, but the skirts and white petticoats were a little longer. Her pretty face remained serious. "Yes? May I help you?"

"I hope so. My name is Zoe Nowak. I have an eleven-thirty appointment."

"Oh, yes, this way, Miss." She turned with a swish of taffeta and satin. After closing the door behind me, she led the way down a wide corridor to an old-fashioned lift at the end.

The click-clack of our stiletto heels rang out on the solid wooden parquet flooring. The interior smelt of money and lots of it. All the doors along the hall were closed, but if the pieces of furniture, side tables, huge framed paintings and flock wallpaper were representative of the rest of the house, I guessed I had entered a millionaire's retreat.

The maid drew the metal concertina lift door aside and joined me after I entered. There were three floors above us and a basement on the selection panel. We went down to the whirl of metal wheels and steel cables grinding against each other. I felt I was participating in the making of a cold war spy movie.

The corridor in the basement was not as extravagantly furnished, but the carpet and decorations wouldn't look out of place in a high-class hotel. She stopped at a door which had a small brass plaque etched with the name, 'Simon Lloyd - Tattoo Artist' and knocked. Melvin explained, back at the office, that the club had its own tattoo artist who also did the piercings.

The door opened to reveal a young black man, who looked a couple of years older than me. He was naked above his Levis jeans and wore a heavy gold necklace. His standout feature was inked on his lithe body. It was the tattoo of a huge green and gold snake, wrapped around his torso. The point of the tail was by his navel, and after disappearing around his back and returning, the head and its gaping jaw was blazoned across his smooth chest.

"Simon, this is Zoe. From Melvin Watson, I think."

"Thanks Cloe. I'll call you when I'm finished." He opened the door and ushered me in. "Come in, girl." He closed the door and waited for me to turn and face him. "So, you're going to be Melvin Watson's new Pet?" he said, as though he was talking to himself.

The question surprised me. "Pet? What do you mean?"

"Zoe, I ask the questions, you answer them. Understand?"

The Afro-Caribbean young man was tall and had a wiry frame. He wasn't muscular but he looked fit and his black mahogany skin glowed a rich mahogany in the artificial light. He had intense large eyes, short dreadlocks and a stereotypical wide nose, but his lips were less prominent than some men of Afro-Caribbean descent.

"Oh, yes. Okay," I replied. I glanced around the room. The walls were covered with photographs of semi-naked bodies sporting elaborate tattoos like the one on his body. "Are these all your work?"

It was a question he didn't mind me asking. He followed my eyes. "They are. Anything you like the look of?"

The young man was clearly an accomplished tattoo artist. "They're all beautiful, but I'd never cover my body..."

He looked disapprovingly at me. "Have you got the fee?"

"Oh, yes..." I opened my bag and took out £500 cash and handed it to him. I had to raid my stash after Melvin rightly guessed I had a nest egg at home.

"Take your clothes off and let me see the body you'd never cover with one of my tattoos." He pointed to an alcove where there were pegs and a countertop, presumably for my clothes.

The moment of truth had arrived. I hung my jacket up and quickly removed my skirt and blouse. After folding them, I slipped my underwear and stockings off. He was standing by the examination table, lowering the end to make it flat.

As I approached him, he held up his hand, so I stopped. He studied my body. "Turn around slowly."

Once I had done a full turn, he reached out and lifted my arm. He had noticed a small red heart tattoo I had done when I was 18. I was with friends and did it for a dare.

"You're not a tattoo virgin then?"

"No, I suppose I'm not..."

He tapped the surface of the table. "Plonk your ass on there, girl."

I turned and sat down on the low edge at the end.

"Right, lay back. I've got to look at your majora lips first."

"Why... What are you going to do?"

"Didn't your Master tell you?"

"He said something about Labia puff technique but didn't explain what that involved."

"Let me look at them first and I'll tell you if they need boosting."

I leant back and with Simon's guidance raised my knees until they were on my chest and my bare feet pointing in the air. He had me posing in the lewdest manner possible to ensure that my convex labia bulged from between the back of my thighs.

"Keep your knees together, girl." My legs were blocking my view, but I felt him rub my lips lengthways, then across, as though he was strumming a guitar. One way and then the other, similar to the method I used when masturbating in bed. "Need to see them aroused, girl..."

"Oh," I gasped involuntarily.

"That's it. Get worked up for me..." A thumb started to spread the resultant juice leaking from my succulent entrance. "Close your eyes girl and enjoy."

His thumb was replaced with a larger, blunt object. "No, you never said..."

"Shut it bitch, this is part of the preparation work."

"Yeah sure..."

Slap! "I said, shut it."

He drove his cock in a couple of inches, then meeting some resistance, swayed his hips back and forth until the blunt end of his dick was nudging my extremity. His shaft was very long, so as soon as he settled into a smooth piston stroke, I felt his crown nudge the roof of my cervix each and every time he bottomed out.

He gripped my thighs and held them together as he gathered pace. I felt the table slightly rocking, as his thick black cock plunged back and forth in my tight, youthful quim. His foreplay had been effective, as was his dick, for I quickly reached an orgasm.

"Fuckkkkkkkk," I whispered while he continued to hammer his black cock into me with a surprising amount of power for such a slim guy.

"Oooo, baby, I love riding your white cunny." Then, as his words transformed into a low groan, he delivered a dozen or so powerful thrusts, while firing spurt after spurt of hot jiz into the depths of my darkest recesses.

After easing his softening cock out of my trembling body he rubbed my labia. "Your lips need to be plumper, so stay where you are kid,"

He tucked his dick away and dabbed my labia dry with tissue, then walked over to a small fridge sitting on a countertop. He returned with a small tray that had an array of surgical items lying on it.

"You can part your knees, girl." He held up a small hypodermic needle already loaded with an off-white liquid. "This is Dermal filler. You'll hardly feel the needle, now your lips are spongier."

Still calming down from a powerful orgasm, I couldn't think clearly. "What effect does it have?"

"Well, it's a puff technique..." He rubbed my clitoral ridge, which was more visible with my thighs almost flat and forming a straight line. "After the treatment, this will be hidden between your slightly larger lips when your thighs are together."

"Why does Melvin, um, my Master want you to do it to me?"

"Did you or did you not agree to have this done?"

"Well, er, yes, I suppose I did."

"Then shut up and let me finish so I can get on with the piercings and tattoos."

I decided to close my eyes and try and take my mind off what was happening to me. The filler didn't take long to inject and the six bee sting-like needle pricks weren't as bad as I feared. The piercing through my clitoral hood, hurt like hell, because it wasn't just a hole. Simon riveted an eyelet through the hole so an adornment could be threaded through it at a later date. Then, unexpectedly, he fired a second shot into my ridge, nearer the top.

"That really hurts, Simon," I complained.

"That was your tag. Shut it now, I've only just started."

"Tag? Melvin never said anything..."

He was glaring at me, so I fell silent. "Finished bitching?" I nodded, so he returned his attention to my mons. He stroked the smooth skin. "You have lovely light skin so the saturation will be impressive. Lower your legs and part them so I can work on your mons. I'll get my coil."

While he was getting the tattoo equipment, I dropped my legs and prodded my swollen lips, which had become tender and red. I then pushed my equally sore ridge sideways to inspect the deep-seated eyelet. It was much larger than I imagined. There was no sign of the tag, except a small entry hole which was weeping blood.

Angry with myself for being so foolish, I couldn't bear to watch when he returned with the tattoo gun and ink. Once again, I closed my eyes and tried to shut out what was happening to me.

I failed miserably!