She stumbled out of bed to answer the shrilling phone, still halfasleep. She barked her shins on a pile of notebooks on the floor. Across theroom, her roommate groaned and rolled over in her sleep. She hurried a bitmore to get the phone before waking her roommate up. "Hello?" she asked sleepily. "Morning," came the reply. She recognized the voice of her masterimmediately. "Hello, sir," she said, and her voice had a much more submissive tone."Why did you call me?" She wished she was at his apartment. So much better,to lie with him and awake with her small hands bound in a bondage belt, withthe warmth of his body nearby and having the excuse of fetters to allow her tolie in bed. "I want you to come to the dining hall and have breakfast with me. Also, I want you to wear a skirt today. Above the knee, I think. And yourstockings and garter belt." "Why?" "You'll find out after English. You can wear flats if you want, butbring your heels along in a bag. Oh, and if you wear underwear, it has to besomething that comes off easily. Wear your silk ones with the bows." "OK, sir," she said, wondering inside what he meant. She would be gladin an hour for having eaten, but right now she wanted more than anything tocrawl back into bed and sleep. She had half an hour before class. But sheobeyed, wondering why all the while. He was no more tractable at breakfast. He allowed her to get threebowls of Captain Crunch, something he usually forbade on the grounds that itwas junk, but anytime she asked why he wanted her dressed that way he onlyanswered, "You'll find out after English." English. Short Story Writing, specifically. The last class she had onFridays, the only one she had with him. So many times, that had been the lastthing she did before spending a weekend in erotic submission to him. Thesimple thought made her belly turn over. The whole day she was unable to keep her mind off it. What did he haveplanned? A weekend of submission? Maybe. But that was hardly uncommon. Sowhy all the secrecy? And why the costuming? In classes, she found herselfwriting his name and WHY? WHY? WHY? on her notes. She tapped her feetincessantly and waited for the class to end. She supposed people werelooking at her. She didn't care. After lunch, which she ate with some friends, for he was on the otherside of campus, she headed back to her room and got the required heels. Patentleather pumps, with a locking ankle strap and five inch heels. She wrappedthem in paper towels and put them in a shoe box, which she put in her backpack.Three more hours! She would never make it. Well, two more. Class started at two and ended at three. She had anhour before her one o'clock class, so she tried to call him but the answeringmachine picked up. Was he there, grinning broadly at the answering machine,laughing at her curiousity, or was he really not there? She could pictureeither. She wished he would let her see his schedule. After trying for the third time she decided he was either not there ornot going to answer. She tried to read the short story someone had writtenwhich was going to be discussed in class, but she couldn't concentrate. Shewas too curious about what he had planned for her. She glanced at her own reflection in the mirror. Deciding she ought tolook nice for whatever he had planned for her, she applied some mascara andblusher and lipstick. This took up most of the time remaining. If he blindfolds me after the work I did on that makeup, I'm gonna bepissed, she thought as she bounced across the quad. In the last class before English she found herself looking out thewindow. Was that him out in back of the building, watching her? It had to be. No one else would lurk outside so boldly, as if they had every right to bethere. Was he looking at her? Smiling at her? She couldn't tell. The hour dragged on. And on. She was growing quite impatient. Finally the bell rung and she was free. English was absolute torture, she decided. She sat next to him as shealways did, and kept trying to whisper in his ear. He would merely grinevilly, and conveniently stretch so that he wouldbe out of range of herwhisper. She passed him notes, as if she was a high schooler. He merely readthem and put them in his notebook. When she dared say something aloud, hehushed her and suggested that she quiet down and pay attention to class. The small, androgynous boy whose story was being presented that daygave her a nasty look. She frowned back at him. Under the table, his handtouched her skirt and pulled it up slightly, just enough so that he could feelher leg. She leaned in close to whisper in his ear, and he let her this time. "I obeyed," she said. "Good," he said, and grinned again, that annoying satisfiedcat-got-the-cream grin he had that he gave herwhen he knew something he did notintend to tell her. Sometimes it made her want to scream and jump up and down.Now was one of those times. Finally, the class was over. He got up and headed for the doorimmediately. She threw her things in her backpack and raced after him.He was heading into an empty classroom. She ran in after him just as he wasclosing the door and turned to face him, breathless. "Okay, it's after English. So tell me." she said. For answer he merely took her arm and spun her around so that she wasin front of him, facing away. His grasp was not painful but irrevocable. Shefelt handcuffs clamped onto her wrists. Then the slight click of the doublelock being engaged on each. These were police handcuffs, and gave her verylittle room. Then he bent her over a desk, got something out of his bag, andspread her legs. She was surprised but pliant, not wanting to resist unless hehurt her. First his hands untied the bows on the hips of her panties and tookthem off. She felt an assplug slip into her, and an admonishment; "Don't let goof that until I tell you you can." Then he was taking off her shoes and putting her feet into thefive-inch pumps, locking each ankle strap with a small lock. Afterwards hescooped up his own bag and hers, took her wrists in the other hand, and marchedher neatly to the elevator. She was grateful he did not make her try thestairs with these shoes and her wrists cuffed behind her back. In the elevator, he hiked up her skirt and checked her; she wasalready moist in the excitement and surprise. "What are you doing?" she asked for the first time since after English. "Don't ask. Don't say a word." His car was parked in the lot nearby. He got her in the passengerseat, and then got in himself. He locked both doors, an unnecessary precautionsince she could not open the door anyway, and then put her seat belt on. Donning his own, he started the engine and drove away. Anytime she spoke, he immediately responded with an order to be silent. He hiked her skirt up to her waist and fondled her freely. This was dizzying. She was restrained, kept in a car, being taken to God knows where, and not evenallowed to speak. It was incredibly exciting. When he got to the Interstate, he stopped for a moment to put a pair ofGargoyle sunglasses on her. He had painted these with black paint, and shecould see very little, but no passersby in cars would have any clue. Without being able to see, she had no real way to gauge time, since the radiowas not playing and he was being fairly silent. After maybe an hour, maybe two, maybe ten years, he pulled off theInterstate, and a short time later pulled over completely. He got out ofthe car, went around and let her out, and led her forward. She felt gravelclicking under her heels. Then, up three steps, and onto a porch of some kind.It sounded like concrete when she walked on it. She heard him fumble brieflywith a key, and then she was being led indoors. Then he took the blindfoldoff. She was in a wood-paneled den, with a fireplace and a few huntingtrophies on the walls. There were two doors leading from the room. One lookedlike it led to a bathroom, the other to a bedroom. She glanced around atthe place curiously. "Do you like it?" he asked. "Like it?" She walked around briefly. "It's beautiful. But how didyou get it?" "It was my grandpa's house," he said. "I'm in the process of gettingit. Some yap about probate. Some other people in the family want it, I think. But it'll be mine soon." Will it be mine too? she wanted to ask, but didn't have the courageto. He came up behind her and unzipped her skirt, pulling it gently butirrevocably off her. Then he removed the handcuffs, only to replace them withleather cuffs. Then he buckled and locked a wide leather collar around herneck. He removed her blouse and bra, and then locked her wrists behind herback. Then he buckled another pair of leather cuffs on her ankles. "Let me show you the basement," he suggested, as if none of what he haddone before had happened. But she was very wet now, very excited as he forcedher down the rickety stairs to the basement. There was a door at the end of the stairs. He pushed her throughthis and locked it. Inside, the basement was finished. She saw a room onher which he propelled her into, and she could see in the dim light several toys up on the walls and a spanking horse and a bed in the corner of the room. "You like it?" he asked, his voice betraying an edge of sharpness. "Yes-oh God, fuck me-," she choked. "Not yet." He took her over to the spanking horse, spread her legs andfastened them to the legs of the horse, then freed her arms briefly to bend herover the horse and attach her wrist cuffs to the legs on the other side. She heard him shuck off his pants and then he had a fistful of herhair, pulling her head up. In his hand she saw a riding crop. Her head couldnot rise far with her body spreadeagled and secured down. His penis was stiff and dancing about, and she was wet and ready forhim. But he forced her to lick it instead, lick it and suck it while hewhipped her ass with the crop. This was a game she knew. She was to suck himwhile he whipped her until he came. Until he did, the whipping would getsteadily harder. She did what she usually did. She delayed him so that he would whipher harder. Eventually she passed into a sort of out-of-body experience: shecould still feel the whip striking her, but it didn't hurt anymore. She feltthe cock in her mouth, everything seeming to happen very slowly, and shethought, I'm a cocksucker. And it seemed very good. Finally he came, and she licked him clean, feeling tired and limp.He came around to her welted ass, and rubbed it gently. "Why so tired?" he asked. She felt his cock slip into her from behind,but was too well bound to fight it. It felt good, slipping into her dark andwet depths. Her welts stung as he touched them. They had both broken out intoa sweat. "So tired already?" He began to pump slowly. "It's gonna be a longweekend, sweetheart." --ÿ