We select Fiona together- a joint decision. I'm John Wren and my business partner is Colonel Laurence and we own property in London.

Laurence loves red hair and freckles and I'm not averse to the look though it's not everyone's cup of tea. This one- Fiona- has lots of freckles on her nose and forehead and on her arms. Maybe other places too- unseen as yet. She's a ginger all right but cute and pert and sexy and all those things. Has that ultra-pale skin that goes with red hair.

Twenty year old university student. Forget what she's studying, not that it matters. It won't be for long.

Laurence hasn't actually seen her. He's going by my description. But I know he likes what he hears.

And here she is, standing before me wearing a tartan shirt and jeans and looking so tearful and upset. Long red hair a bit dishevelled like she's not been out of bed for long. Swelling tits pushing at her shirt which has three buttons undone. It goes without saying I've stripped her mentally and I'm wondering how big her boobs actually are and if her pubes are red and if she shaves down there.

'We couldn't afford it, Mr. Wren,' she sniffs. 'We're struggling as it is.'

By 'we' she means the girl she shares the apartment with called Maxine. Another student. Has a shaggy blonde mane. Of course I wonder if they have sex together and my mind instantly has them lying naked on the bed lapping each other's hairy cunts.

Concentrate!

Laurence would tell me to get on with it.

I tell her how sorry we are that we have to put the rent up but explain it's not an easy time for landlords with all the rules we have to comply with. I explain the apartment is due for a repaint and refurbishment anyway and that would probably push the rent way out of their reach. We (it's always a joint decision with Laurence) offer the apartments at a low rent to female students we fancy (no guys allowed) and then increase it once they're settled in.

We've reached the decision to have one as a pet at home which is where Fiona comes in- if I can work it.

The Colonel and I spent a lot of time and money on the purpose-built accommodation we have ready for our guest. You might even call it a suite of rooms. There's the play room with a hoist, pulley and winch system where she can be suspended in any position.

This room has a St. Andrew's cross made of black vulcanised rubber with many straps attached, a whipping bench or horse, and a range of equipment such as whips and wands, a fucking machine, weights, dildos and electrical gadgets.

There's an animal cage just big enough for our female pet.

The secret place is the chimney flue behind a false fireplace adapted to be a hidden entrance like a priest hole of olden days mostly brick but with a padded leather back to it (with straps attached) where our guest can be kept in solitary confinement in a standing position. The flue is blocked just above where the incarcerated person's head will be but a small vent allows some air to enter.

Needless to say it's impossible for anyone to get out once imprisoned there because there is no handle on the inside and once the fireplace is moved back into place there is too much weight to push against.

We're convinced that if we had a priest holed up in the chimney he'd never be found and if the police- or anyone else- came looking they'd leave empty-handed.

The playroom would arouse interest no doubt but we could explain that away in terms of our interest in BDSM.

When our young guest needs exercise there's a walled yard and bit of garden that can't be overlooked.

Now Fiona flops on her sofa and puts her head in her hands. OK, she's upset but it's obvious she's really turning on the tears in the hope I might change my mind. Bit of a performance.

'There's one possibility,' I say. 'But it would mean you and Maxine separating.'

'What, a cheaper apartment?'

'A room really.'

'I'd consider anything Mr Wren. Where is it?'

'At my place. I've got a spare room.'

'Would I have the place to myself? I don't mean to sound rude...'

'You're thinking of being able to get your college work done, somewhere quiet?'

'Yes...and...'

'We'd make sure you had everything you need.'

'How much would the rent be?'

'I was thinking of a slightly different arrangement. If you were willing to do a few household chores we might be able to overlook the rent.'

'Household chores?'

'Just a little cleaning and keeping the place tidy for me and Colonel Laurence.'

I watch Fiona's face. Odds on she's thinking I'm in a gay relationship. She's probably thinking that makes it safer being in a house with two homosexuals, which we're not by the way. Far from it- as you'll see.

'I'm grateful Mr Wren. Is there any chance of doing anything for Maxine?'

'It's a small room, single bed, not much space.'

'Could we possibly squeeze two in.?'

Tempting thought but I'd need to talk to Laurence. Fiona looks at me as though she's thinking I'm thinking they might be dykes. Tables turned. Things get complicated.

'I'll get back to you on that,' I tell her. 'I don't think it would work out.'

'When can you let us know Mr Wren?'

'It's Sunday tomorrow. No college. You'll both be here in the morning?'

'Sure if you say what time.'

'Ten o'clock.'