Chapter 1 - Slave training

 

"Slave, take those nipple clamps off and come here," she demanded.

He approached her nervously and knelt in front of her, ready for more pain. She picked up a tray with clamps hanging from it and attached them to his nipples. He winced as the clamps bit into his already tender nipples. She lifted the tray and took a wrist; she fastened the strap to his wrist and then repeated it to the other one.

"Get up and follow me," she told him bluntly.

He followed her to the drinks cabinet and watched her make a John Collins and place it on the tray he now held. She walked off and he followed, fearing another thrashing from her cane. She sat in an easy chair and told him to kneel by her side. She took out a cigarette and lit it. She took a couple of drags and then looked around as if looking for something and turned to him.

"Ashtray," she said and he opened his mouth for her to flick ash into it.

She picked up the glass and took a drink from it, then put it down heavily on the tray. He winced again as the clamps on his nipples tugged at them when she put the glass down.

"Yes," she said, answering her mobile phone, "again, we have to do something about this. I am educating a miserable slave at the moment. I will be free at four, call a meeting for then," she said in the abrupt voice she used for slaves - and hung up.

"As an occasional table you are adequate, the next time you visit me we will try for an armchair, shall we, slave?" she asked - yet not, she was telling him what to expect, so he did not answer her, tables do not speak.

"Really we could do with a third leg, but it is not long enough, is it, slave?" This time he shook his head, accepting her criticism.

"No, it is not, stand and let me examine it," she told him. He stood up and she took hold of it and rubbed it.

"Hmm, it grows. Did you know that when rubbed it grows, nice, but even so it is still too short and it points the wrong way. No it will not serve as a third leg. Make it go limp, it is useless, even as a third leg, kneel, I want a drink," she said and he knelt down so that she could have a drink of her John Collins.

She removed the tray and put it to one side, put a condom on him and made him lie on his back. This time she rubbed his cock hard until he shot his load into the bubble on the end.

"Well, slave, was it as you expected?" she asked him.

"Yes, Mistress, it was an excellent session. Can I be an armchair next time, please?" he asked.

"We will see, I mean where would the ashtray be if you were behind me, do you expect me to look, for it?" she admonished him.

"What if my hand were like that?" he said, holding out his hand palm up.

"That may work, but it would need to be emptied, you do realise that, don't you?" she asked him.

"Yes, Mistress, in the trash can," he said, opening his mouth.

"Then I may, ring me a day before you wish to come. Next time I will apply eighteen strokes, you managed twelve, and I do like to extend my slaves. Remember, wash the butt plug before you leave, do not take it with you," she reminded him and left him to get changed.

 

Chapter 2 - Interview

 

Robert sat at the table in the interview room, although there wasn't much to look at and he had seen it when he was put in there, he allowed his gaze to wander around the room.

It was nothing special, four solid walls without windows, plastered and painted in gloss paint. A table in solid wood with its surface empty and four chairs, a single fluorescent tube lit the room.

The only interesting item in the room was the police constable guarding the door. He looked at her without staring; he took in her low heeled black shoes, her black tights or stockings, on up to her skirt, a navy blue serge skirt straight line. Then he looked at her white starched blouse, her breast button struggling to contain her firm, large breasts and the neck tie hooked on her collar button, so that if an attacker pulled on it, it would come off.

She wore light make-up on what he felt was quite an angelic face. Her hair was tied back in a bun, as required, but with some strands falling loose around her round and inviting face. He felt that if her hair were down around her shoulders, it would soften the stern look the bun gave her and she would be even more attractive than she already was. Mind you, Robert always did like blondes and uniforms; it gave a woman an air of authority and of strength, he felt.

He sat there and thought back to the reason for him being in the police station. It was an old building and he felt out of place, he understood that all these district and substations had been sold off and the police force was now centralised.

'This must be the odd one out,' he thought, 'A remnant of days gone by, when the police patrolled the streets, instead of zooming past in cars.'

What had happened was, he had picked up a young lady and they went out to dinner. She had expected him to pay and had picked the restaurant at his request, He swallowed when he saw the prices and realised that he didn't have enough money.

So silly, as he now realised, he went to the toilet and walked out without her seeing him leaving her, to pay the bill. She had spoken to the owner and as he turned the corner there they were, waiting for him, two policewomen and a black van.

He was handcuffed, put in the back and taken to the station to clear up this mess, hence his current wait in the interview room. He had money in the bank so he would pay, but it would put paid to his holiday, taking nearly all of his spending money for one meal.

"Ok girls, this is the third time this week that some arsehole has walked off, leaving one of us to pay. Luckily as agreed, Debbie took him to Angelo's Italian restaurant where we know Alberta and he is ok with what has happened. He still wants paying, as the girl does for her time, but they will wait till we have extracted it from that arsehole, plus punishment - erm, interest. I want to send a message to all the arseholes out there that it will not be tolerated.

"Laura is watching him. He thinks he is in a police station, which he is, but it is no longer in use, instead we have cells and interview rooms so we can keep up the pretence till I have him. We need something to keep him here, something he is afraid of, like something criminal, so that we can persuade him to do as we tell him, for fear of going to court, and prison," Sandy said as she organised the women.

They were all prostitutes and she, being the eldest and most experienced, had organised this ploy to stop them being ripped off. She was too old to be a functioning prostitute and had diverted into domination, as had two more of the women and that is what they intended to use on him, but they needed his consent, to avoid prosecution, themselves.

"What about..." Carol said, as she explained her plan to them.

"Great, Carol that is what we will do. OK can you organise that, like now? I know it is asking a lot, but can you?" Sandra asked her.

"Yes I can, but it will take about half an hour to organise," she said.

"No problem, he can stew for twenty more minutes then." She stopped and looked around at the girls, "Barbara, you can be sergeant. I'll be another sergeant, but recently promoted to inspector, just waiting to take up a new post and therefore eager to get a conviction on anything to make my name. Susan, you come in, in say half an hour as the inspector for this station, we will make the little bastard sweat," she said, with a smile.

"Susan, will you type this up," she said.

Susan had been a secretary and took the confession down in shorthand as Sandra dictated it then, at one hundred and twenty words a minute; she had it typed before Sandra had reached the interview room.

Robert sat there, wondering how long they would keep him; he knew that they couldn't keep him for more than twenty four hours before bringing charges. He kept calm, as calm as he could do, under the circumstances. The door opened and two plain clothes officers walked in. They sat down and opened a file without saying a word. One of them looked at the paper work, then looked at him, her eyes cold and fixed.

"I am Sergeant Johnson and this is Sergeant Andrews, we will be conducting this interview," she informed him.

"Well, Mr. Green, I need to make sure we have your details correct, so you are," she said, asking him to confirm his name, address, date of birth, telephone number, place of work, and his job, he confirmed them.

"OK, so now let us see if you agree with what has happened. We have here a statement from the owner of the restaurant. It states that you entered his establishment at eight thirty with a young lady. You were seated near the door at the table you requested. You ordered a starter of two prawn cocktails and then a main course of fillet of beef in a brandy sauce and a lobster Thermidore, and a bottle of Graves, a vintage bottle, is that correct so far?" she asked him.

"Yes that is correct," he replied cautiously.

"Then you went to the toilet and disappeared without paying the bill. Is that correct?" she asked.

"Erm, well, yes I, erm, well, I, went to get some money from the bank. I realised I didn't have enough to pay the bill, so I was going to the cash machine for more, erm, and, well," he said, leaving the sentence hanging.

"If you didn't have enough money, why did you go into such an expensive restaurant, hum?" the sergeant asked.

"Well I didn't realise that it would be so expensive, I erm, well," he said, now beginning to sweat with worry.

"You can read, can't you? I mean the prices are not so small that you couldn't see them, I eat there regularly and I can see them. Do you have a defect in your sight?" she asked forcefully.

"I, erm, no, well, no, but, I erm, well it, erm, well," he stuttered.

"Oh come on, Mr Green, you invite a woman out to dinner, you take her to an expensive restaurant, you wine and dine her, hoping to get into her knickers, then find out you haven't got the money. Do we look so stupid?" she said, raising her voice as she spoke.

"I, erm, well, no, I, am, sorry, I didn't, mean to, I, OK, I, well," he stuttered even more, having lost the ability to make a coherent sentence.

"Mr. Green, we have the young lady's statement. She tells us that you invited her. She tells us that you touched her under the table, played footsie with her and you expect us to believe you didn't have sex on your mind? Perhaps it was her price that was too high, or that you can't commit to a relationship and you ran away from her?" she demanded, "Perhaps you prefer men and can't accept the fact?" She was now leaning closer to his face, threatening.

"I, I, I, no, I, wait, no, I, well, I, I'm not like that, no, yes OK I did fancy her and wanted to bed her, but I, well, I erm, didn't know she was a, well, I mean she, never, oh my god," he stuttered and shut up.

Sandra sat back. She knew she had him on the run and folded her arms, indicating that she was no longer interested in his excuses. The other sergeant leaned forward.

"Sergeant, he looks rather sweaty to me and very nervous, what else is he hiding? Do you do drugs, are you in need of a fix?" the other sergeant asked calmly.

"W, what, no way no, never no, I mean, no," he said, shocked at the accusation.

"Yes, I see what you mean and so aggressive when asked a simple question, a sure sign of guilt, OK then, empty your pockets onto the table," Sandra said, He was falling into their trap.

Robert emptied his pockets and put everything on the table.

"Hum, this, yes, get me a test kit and a swab, please?" Sandra asked calmly.

She rubbed the swab without touching the piece of paper and put it in the machine, it read positive for cocaine.

"Well, well, well, cocaine, you can see the reading, can't you? Now, where is it," she asked him calmly.

"I, I, oh, no, I, honest, you have to believe me, I don't do drugs," he said nervously.

"Tomorrow we can get the doctor in and he will tell us if you test positive for drugs or not and of course during tonight you will do cold turkey in the cells. So we will know one way, or another, obviously if you do not test positive, then I must assume that you deal, or supply, or are a mule. you know, to carry the stuff from dealer to dealer, a mule. Now which is it? It is the only way that, that piece of paper could have tested positive was if you had some in your pocket and if you come clean, then it will go easier for you in court," she said, still calmly.