The big question

Ever since Ava was young, she’d felt an emptiness inside her. It exhibited itself in an unconscious desire to please men, something that that went well beyond being a good and responsive sexual partner. That summer she was reading a magazine when she found an article that stopped her in her tracks. About Alpha submissives. 

“An Alpha submissive female can only be attracted to a strong, powerful, confident Alpha Male. Weak, meek men simply do not attract them. Submissive men often misinterpret the public Alpha Female persona as being the same as the Alpha submissive females’ sexual persona. Men misread these women, wanting them to dominate them sexually in private, often creating a case of complete incompatibility. It is only a strong decisive, confident man that truly arouses the feminine senses of an Alpha submissive, a woman who can only submit to a man she feels is even more confident and dominant than her own public persona.”

She realised, with a bit of a shock, it meant that her personality, her desires, were those of an Alpha Submissive slave. This rang true. That was what she most liked most in life, what really turned her on.

Before Lorenzo, she had only dated what she’d regarded as ‘weak’ men. She knew that, once she started to feel any contempt for a man’s weakness, it meant their relationship was doomed fairly quickly. Quite a few of her early suitors had lasted barely a month.

She’d realised she was very different too. Even though she’d always thought of herself as shy, she still gained a reputation all through college as a tough debater in lectures, a bit of a female ‘hard nut’. But she recognised her public persona, what she wanted people to see of her, was very much at odds with how she really felt inside. Ava was sure that’s why her city finance firm had jumped and made her an offer to join them, before she even passed her exams. It was because she’d come across as so assured at their finance panel, so confident in everything she said at the rigorous interview.

Ava thought about all the years she and Lorenzo had been together. It was his strong will and personality that had attracted him to her in the first place. Yet what he regularly asked of her, in submitting to his sexual will, was not much different from the fantasies she’d formed in her head in her teens, when she’d first started masturbating. All those guilty, half-crazy fantasies of being controlled, being instructed what to do by some big hunk. In reality she’d hardly changed in her mind at all from when she was young. She had just been very lucky in meeting someone at college who could fulfil all her life-long young fantasies, here in the adult world.

After years of debating her teenage fantasies round and round in her head, she came to realise that what Lorenzo offered was way more than what he did to her, it was what his attitude to her really represented. The fact that, as a strong-minded man, he not only made her feel carnally complete, but both stable and secure too.

But it still came as a huge surprise to Ava when, four years after they’d met as undergraduates, and taken part in their very first master and slave game, Lorenzo decided to propose to her.

That sunny day they’d planned to meet for lunch at a small Italian café, overlooking the river. Lorenzo was in blue shorts and a tight white polo shirt, showing off his muscular chest. Ava wore her favourite lemon yellow silk dress with a tight push up bra, delicate jade necklace and, as she usually did in Summer, no panties.

Lorenzo had been charming, regaling her about his friend Bill’s winter hiking trip, which had gone spectacularly wrong when he slid down an icy slate scree slope and broke his wrist.

Ava couldn’t quite work out why he was telling her this slightly odd story here, in summertime, when snow was the last thing on anyone’s mind. But she laughed when he said it had worked out fine in the end, with his friend ending up meeting his future bride, a paramedic in the waiting ambulance at the bottom of the mountain.

Ava smiled, indulging his tale, knowing that when they got back later, he would likely be wanting to strip her out of her dress and do obscene things to her naked body. She shivered slightly with the thought, experiencing a sudden body flush in heady anticipation.

Ava was about to tell him how one of her friends met their own partner when the reason for telling his tale suddenly became clear.

Lorenzo suddenly bent down, allegedly to pick up a fallen napkin, emerging from beneath the table with a small navy velvet box.

He got out of his chair, knelt down beside her at the table, opening the sleek rectangular box lined with silk. Inside was a four-carat diamond ring, glistening in the summer sun. Ava opened her mouth wide, unable to speak, her green eyes wide in astonishment.

“Ava Jefferson, would you do the honour of marrying me?”

At first, Ava couldn’t take it in, the words alien and unexpected. Then she realised why he had told her the strange tale first. It was nerves, trying to steel himself to ask her to be his bride.

Ava had been completely taken by surprise, but when she looked at him and gazed into his eyes, she knew immediately. This would cement their future and all their submissive and dominant master and slave lives and sexual activity together.

The other diners turned to watch at the commotion as Ava leapt up, pulling Lorenzo to his feet and then leaping at him like a high jumper, almost toppling him back to the floor as she wrapped her powerful thighs tightly around his torso.

He struggled to keep hold of her, caught in her strong thigh embrace, holding her aloft by her beautiful naked buns and desperately trying to make sure the rest of the diners didn’t see that Ava had no panties on underneath. Her breasts jiggling seductively under his square jaw, Ava smothered Lorenzo’s rugged face in soft kisses.

“Do I take that as a yes, then?” Lorenzo managed to ask.

“Yes, yes of course I will, Lorenzo! I thought you’d never ask.”

They cuddled firmly for a minute, oblivious of the other diners then sat back at the dining table. Ava’s body was tense, shaking slightly as she looked up at Lorenzo, staring at him in awe and wonder, green eyes shining.

Holding her hands in his Lorenzo looked into her almond-shaped eyes, a big grin on his face. His gaze roved over her lithe tanned body, and he leant in, making sure he couldn’t be overheard.

“Do you really mean it, Ava? You really want to marry me and be my forever slave?”

The faintest expression of doubt crossed Ava’s face, a miniscule thought suddenly surfacing. She threw it off. This was no time for misgivings.

“Yes, I do Lorenzo. I’ve wanted this for so long!”

“That’s wonderful. I love you, Ava, I know I don’t say it enough.”

Lorenzo took in her athletic shoulders, her succulent round breasts thrust forward in the push-up bra. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining Ava naked either, her flat stomach with its hot sheen of summer sweat, her tiny inny bellybutton.

He also thought, although he couldn’t be entirely sure, that he started to smell that heady aroma of musk exuding from her, the tell-tale sign of her warm wet pussy, readying itself for him.

They spent the rest of lunch talking the wedding through and agreed a date nine months away, that following Spring.

When they got back their minds were lost in a joint passion, groping and fondling each other and rolling in bliss on the bed and even on the grass outside. They finally fell asleep on the soft living room carpet, lost in each other’s arms and bodies.

Ultimatum

Both were in an ecstatic mood over the next few weeks, with Lorenzo starting to make lavish plans for their joint wedding, and Ava harbouring joyful visions of the fabulous bridal gown she would wear down the aisle.

Ava really felt she was really ready now for Lorenzo to be her master, and for her to be his slave, as lifelong partners.

But nothing is ever simple, and everything was about to change.

Four weeks later Ava and Lorenzo sat across from each other for lunch at Johnsons, opposite the commercial bank and hedge fund finance company they each worked in. They often frequented the downtown cafe, picked originally due to its obvious sexual connotations. Plus, the cinnamon biscuits here were to die for.

On this occasion Lorenzo wanted an intimate conversation with Ava, so he had picked a discreet corner, well away from the busy morning visitors. He waved a hand at the waiter, ordering two of the frothy coffees with chocolate sprinkles that they both loved.

At the small round table, with its clean red checkered gingham cloth, they could people watch freely, yet couldn't be overheard by others. With the broad windows open to the gentle breeze, and the heady smell of jasmine in the air, Ava adored summer it in here.

She smiled again at him, sweetly, sliding a stocking heeled foot gently up his leg. She was playing with him gently, coaxing him for a reaction. She guessed he wanted to talk more about wedding plans.

"How's it hanging down there, big boy?"

Ava was having a good day. She had got up that morning with a spring in her step and a smile on her luscious red lips. She fondly recalled their previous evening together when, after a seductive seafood dinner in the apartment, she'd got up, abandoned the cluttered table, and led him gently by the hand into her bedroom.

There she'd delighted in instructing him to strip naked, pushing him down onto the large chrome bed, tying him to its four rigid steel corners with thick black cord. Immobile, struggling pointlessly with his bonds against Ava's knot knowledge, she'd tied a black bandana over Lorenzo's eyes. She'd spent half an hour riding over him, smothering his face with her wet pussy until he almost couldn't breathe. Her juices oozed down his face and neck, hips rocking and bucking, only letting him come up for air after gaps of almost thirty seconds. She was certainly in control that evening.

Despite his pleading, she'd let him recover for only a few minutes, then enveloped his penis with her fist, massaging him. Before he got too big, she pulled the tight steel ring on over his ridged purple tipped cock, the one she kept in a bedside drawer for exactly such moments. Ava teased his swollen balls with a feather mercilessly.

Straddling his muscular body, gripping him firmly with her long legs, Ava had ridden him hard, bucking back and forth over him like a rodeo rider. His tight and almost impossibly rigid cock filled her completely, impaling her over his thighs. As she let him have his final release Ava had felt every tiny sensation of his hot fluid pumping into her, flooding her insides. When he finally came, almost an hour later, Lorenzo had screamed out her name.

Following her own shaking orgasm, Ava also remembered the aftermath fondly too. Her pulling herself off his throbbing cock, the suction from their joint fluids producing a soft squelching sound. Both of their bodies were bathed in sweat and, standing there watching his hard and fast breathing by the side of the bed, she felt their joint fluids begin to run in slow rivulets down the insides of both her thighs. As her vagina tensed and released in her orgasmic afterglow, Ava had that heady feeling of his warm milky jism pulsing from her in a steady stream from between her tight labia. There was so much of it, and she'd loved every sticky minute of it.

Upping the tension at the cafe, she slipped off her heel, extended her leg, and pointed a toe delicately into his crotch, starting to rub.

Studiously ignored Ava's obvious advances and her enticing footsie play under the table, Lorenzo pushed her heel away. He looked deadly serious, his face a stern mask. She could see something was clearly wrong but didn’t know what exactly.

Was he just in a bad mood, or was his neck hurting after last night's facesitting, perhaps? It happened sometimes. She put her heel back on, trying to analyse his concerned look. He broke the growing silence between them.

"Ava, I wanted to meet you here because there's a serious question I need to ask you. Something really important to me."

She started at his unusual stern tone. Lorenzo was normally gentle with her, or at least outside the bedroom. They'd had a good time last night, hadn't they? She began to fidget on the hard chair nervously, starting to stir her coffee absently.

He watched her rapidly changing demeanour, the worried and slightly frightened look in her luminous green eyes as they widened briefly. His tone stayed direct, commanding. One of manager and subordinate rather than lovers who shared intimate experiences.

"Look, Ava, I know that you like dominating me sexually, and I really loved it at first. But I've come to realise over the last few months being a slave is not my thing. It doesn’t work for me."

Ava was suddenly concerned. What was he talking about exactly? Along with trying out a few more of the exciting BDSM practices they'd discussed more recently, she thought that their relationship was going well sexually, albeit with a kinky bent. Even though it worried her, Ava felt she had to speak up, put her case forward for what she loved in him, about him, with him.

"Lorenzo, we've been together since college. We have what anyone else would see as a true partnership. Why do you want things to change? Don’t partners share pleasure and pain too?"

He didn't react at first, just stared at her carefully, watching her.

"That's true, but I really need more from you now, Ava. A lot more. Look, there's no soft or easy way of putting this, even though I know we should have talked about it properly before."

Tears beginning to prick the corner of her Ava's eyes. She felt a tinge of fear about their long relationship together.

"Talked about what exactly? What are you saying? Are you breaking up with me?"

Lorenzo grabbed her hand, calming her down, soothing her.

"No, not at all, please don't worry, Ava. All I'm saying is that, to move forward, I need to feel more in control, of you, of us. Remember when we were students? That's why I gave you that book about master and slave, it was all about control."

Startled Ava looked around, making sure no one else had overheard. Was he really serious about what he'd just said, or was this another of his role play sex games?

"What does that really mean, Lorenzo? This is a total surprise. Where is all this coming from?"

He pressed her hand, becoming more animated, excited now he had begun to unburden himself. Clearly this had been pent up inside him for some time.

"Look, it's simple. To the outside world, everything would still be the same, as if nothing's changed. Like here, or with friends, or our work colleagues. But between us, I'd like things to be different.”

“Different in what way exactly? What do you mean?”

“Ava, I'd like to become your permanent master, and you my permanent slave. That is if you'll accept?"

This was a shock, a momentous and unexpected request. She tried to process his question, stated almost as a demand. In fact, she suddenly realised, the way he had used the word 'permanent' had also almost sounded like a proposal too.

Unusually lost for words, she shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, pulling her thin summer dress underneath her, mentally trying to protect herself. She was thinking hard, trying to process this, struggling with what to reply.

"I, I don't know," she managed to stutter. She felt vulnerable, talking about this here, out in public, like a misbehaving student waiting in line for the school headmistress, about to be questioned about their misdemeanours, under threat of the cane.

He leaned forward and stared at her, an inquisitor, searching for both a truthful response and compliance. She blushed, looking away from his gaze at the other coffee visitors chatting, going about their simple daily lives.

"Lorenzo, we should have talked about this before. It’s too much to take in. I need to think, OK? It's obviously a big deal for me."

Lorenzo pressed on, seeing his advantage.

"Ava, you do want to please me. don't you? This is the natural next stage in our relationship. To become true master and slave."

"Of course I can see you want this, Lorenzo. But you know it's not that simple for me. You do get that? I like control too and, whatever you say, what you want is bound to affect my career, my friends..."

Her voice tailed off, seeing a sudden look of anger cross his face. He'd clearly already made his decision.

"Fine, then, Ava. Let's leave it there. It's your choice. But I'll be honest, I think unless we go ahead with this move, this change in our lives, then there's little future for us."

Lorenzo got up quickly, throwing down a few coins which clattered accusingly on the table. He grabbed his jacket of the back of the chair and left, walking out into the summer sunshine.

Stunned at what he'd said to her, Ava leant forward slowly, feeling warm tears begin in her eyes that then became a sudden flood. One or two of the morning coffee crowd turned round to look at the young women sitting there on her own, bent over the corner table, sobbing uncontrollably.

Demands

Ava hadn't heard from him for a week and was beside herself. She couldn't even bring herself to talk to her friends about what he'd asked her. It was far too personal. Shutting herself off from the world each night in her apartment, Ava felt isolated, alone. She was really scared it was all over between them.

It was about a week later, when Ava received a formal letter from Lorenzo by registered mail, that it all began to go wrong. She looked at the writing in his flowing script on the envelope. Ava thought it might be ideas and plans for their impending wedding day and reception, three months away. But, inside, Lorenzo’s letter was something very different.

He outlined, with exacting descriptions, how he wanted their future married life to be together. To Ava, at first glance, it read like a detailed list of orders. It started with pretty basic stuff, things she found sexy and exciting and usually liked anyway, for example that she was always to be shaved and depilated. But it also made other demands, like that she should never wear panties when she was with him, or even at work either. She foresaw immediate issues there, especially in her high-power finance job and her recent promotion to deputy head of department at the investment bank.

She reread his list, ten strict instructions, a dozen times. She was trying to take in everything about how he insisted she should behave with him in the future, what he would want to do to her, and her to him, and when.

Her biggest concern was that, until that point, they had been relatively equal sex partners, doing what they both liked. Despite her preferring a role as a slave, every once in a while, depending on her mood, she liked to swap and become the dominant person in their sexual partnership.

Clearly, Lorenzo wanted things to change completely in their married relationship. He wanted to be totally in control. This was an unexpected, troubling aspect of his character.

His letter also outlined the details of what would be the start of an intensive training program created for Ava, and he insisted it all had to be completed prior to their marriage, now five months away. She scanned his long list, unsure what to make of some of these commands, many simply bizarre. What did she feel about all this?

For instance, she was to submit to his will sexually, in public, whenever he demanded. He gave a list of examples, like when out walking, at the theatre, on public transport, or even when they were out together, with mutual friends. He listed everything he should be permitted to do to her, including finger her and penetrate her.

She was to be waiting for him at the end of every working day, naked, hands on her knees, as he came in the door. She was also to clean their apartment each week, again naked, but wearing a skimpy maid’s uniform that gave him easy access to every orifice.

She was amazed by the audacity of the last two items. After marriage, Ava was to sexually submit to other people he selected, either male or female. But he didn’t say who, or where, or how often. Most shocking of all, after they got married, she was to submit to having a feather wrapped in barbed wire tattooed on her back just below her waistline, a symbol that she was not only his property but also a sexual submissive.

The barbed feather would sit just below her own small oriental tattoo, the one she’d had done in a rebellious phase at seventeen.

As well as the tattoo on her back, Lorenzo’s initial LM were also to be inked on her body in red, directly above her vaginal opening.

He finished off his letter by saying that, if they were to be married, he would insist on her total commitment to him. She was to be his slave, and him her master, at all times. It made it clear that being married would mean her subjugating her will to his, permanently, with no possibility of change.

Lorenzo said he recognised this was an enormous step for her, to submit herself to him completely. If she needed time to consider all of this, that was fine. But he wanted her answer soon, in writing.

It took Ava two weeks to come to terms with it all. She refused to speak to Lorenzo during this time, shutting herself in a spare room, sitting in a chair with a glass of wine, thinking hard about it all.

It was true that throughout her life she had felt a lack of direction, something which had always given her a feeling of unease. But she’d put it down to being young, and young people never knew what they wanted from life, did they? Now the radical solution Lorenzo suggested was a possible answer to all this, albeit a particularly perverse one. It involved her accepting his lifelong plan for her to become his slave.

But she knew it meant all of those times she had spent being in charge of him, sexually and emotionally, would be consigned to the past. It was odd, though, when she realised that it was both a thrill and a challenge that she might no longer have any control over their individual sexual activities. The thought of truly submitting her will to Lorenzo, forever, actually filled her with a strange sense of calm.

In the end it was her overwhelming desire to be a slave to him as her lifelong master that ultimately overrode all of her concerns. That night, breathless, she called him, telling him what he had waited so long to hear. Ava said she agreed to comply with all of his list and would do whatever he demanded of her in their future together.

For a while there was a silence at the other end of the line then, for the first time, she heard him crying. Lorenzo was sobbing with joy, hope and anticipation of what was to come, their life together.

Between tears he told her he loved her, would take care of her and would always respect her sexual needs as a true submissive and slave. That everything in their future lives together would work out.

That evening she wrote back to him, accepting that she would obey his requests as her master. That was whether she was at work, with him at home, or when they were out in public together. As his committed slave, Ava would accept everything he asked her to do, or do to her, at any time of day or night.

As she wrote the letter, Ava was crying too but, if she was honest with herself, at that moment she really wasn’t entirely sure why.

Two days later, a message arrived via private courier at the bank's headquarters where Ava was a senior finance manager. The text on the front of the note, in red flowing handwriting she instantly recognised, said 'private and confidential'. It was from Lorenzo!

The note came with a square black box, wrapped up with a red bow. She put the box behind her desk quickly.

Carefully shielding the message from the watchful eyes of her PA, who had already raised a querulous eyebrow. Ava opened the note and glanced at it quickly. What she saw at the top made her relieved, excited, nervous and intrigued, all at the same time.

As she read on, she swivelled in her chair, turning her back to her office desk, desperate to hide the growing blush spreading over her face and décolletage from her hovering PA.

Keeping the message low in her lap she read the brief note a second time, its heady demands illuminated by the morning sunlight slanting through the skyscraper's office window. The message was short and to the point, written in his confident handwriting, signed Lorenzo at the bottom.

"Ava, you must submit to my will as your master. Join me tomorrow to discuss being my permanent slave. Leave at midday. Take the afternoon off. Meet 13:00 at 1020 Madison Street. Wear what is in this box. Be freshly shaved. No panties or bra permitted."

So, this was it then, an ultimatum. Him as master, her as slave. It was a momentous life decision, one she had tormented herself with over the last seven days ever since he'd gone out of the door of the coffee shop and left her there, shocked and forlorn. Ava had wanted to call Lorenzo so many times during the last week, to beg him to reconsider how their relationship might work. She would say they could start again, take what he obviously wanted steadily. But she could never quite work out what she might say to him on the phone.

It was true that she felt the idea of being his slave was deliciously exciting, but it also made her stomach knot up at the thought of what it meant for their future lives together. Ava realised he was still forcing her to make this decision. Nothing had changed. Now she had just 24 hours to think everything through and make her mind up. Or their relationship could be through.

She was a wreck for the rest of the working day, declining meetings, heading home as soon as the clock reached six. She had to think and get her mind straight. Settling back in her favourite leather wingback chair, her hand cradling a 10 year old malt whisky in a lead glass tumbler, she mulled everything round and round in her mind. But, by the time she had dozed off, still slumped in the chair, she was still no closer to any decision of what she should do, or even if she should meet with Lorenzo the next day.

In the morning, she felt better. In fact, her mind became crystal clear. She had decided what she would do. It came to her in the shower, thinking about his strong hands caressing and fondling her body, her breasts, bending her forward at the waist against the wall, lifting her body and opening her up, penetrating her forcefully from behind. She would comply with what he wanted. What was there to lose? If she really didn't like what came next in this new stage of her life with Lorenzo, she always had the option to finish the relationship. She was still in control…

An hour before the planned meeting, Ava packed her PA off for an early lunch. Not recognising the office block address he'd given in his note, and with Google search coming up with a blank, Ava booked a taxi to get her there in plenty of time for the meeting.

Still nervous, Ava prepared herself in her office en-suite meticulously. She stripped off her black work blouse and tight suit trousers, folding them neatly and placing them on the antique dresser. She paused, then resolutely removed her bra and panties, as instructed on Lorenzo's brief note. So, he wanted her out naked in public, it seemed? The thought of this sent a rush of adrenaline and a shiver through her core. She couldn't help but admit this was sexually exciting.

Looking at her lithe body in the full-length ensuite mirror Ava paused, standing there, reviewing her nakedness critically. The expensive local gym was certainly doing wonders for her physique. She looked good from every angle. Ava flexed a leg, admiring her supple calves and strong thighs. Her buttocks were tanned and taut, her stomach toned flat. She had carefully shaved and waxed her vulva crisp and clean the previous night, as also instructed in his note. But, if this demand continued, she knew she was going to require regular sessions at her salon to keep herself baby smooth.

Smiling, she remembered the look on his face the first time he'd seen her fully waxed, knowing a freshly shaved look was an aspect of sex with her he found really hot. She had to admit, when she was trimmed bare, there was nothing like the feeling of being bald, smooth and completely naked, down there.

She remembered when she'd been just ten years old. Back when those first tiny dark hairs had begun to appear. She had examined herself embarrassedly, staring and playing with the thin downy growth over her lower stomach and tiny labia, concerned she would end up as hairy as a gorilla by eleven.

But Ava she knew she was lucky. Depilation was the least of her concerns. Some of her friends were so embarrassed about what they thought about their 'untidy' vagina they had even undergone expensive and painful labiaplasty surgery.

Ava's vulva was naturally neat and tight. Her inner labia were tucked neatly inside, only emerging once she was fully aroused. Her outer labia were a beautiful pink, rosy hue, rounded and slightly puffy, when it was seductively engorged what Lorenzo liked to call the perfect cameltoe.

She knew that was also why Lorenzo sometimes asked to come along with her to her gym, even though he had his own membership elsewhere. At some point he had the habit of placing himself on the bench press equipment, directly opposite the line of running machines.

Muscles bulging provocatively, he would pause his strenuous exercise, pretending to mop his face with a small white towel. He would peek at Ava, in between wipes of his forehead, staring at her, running hard in her tight grey sweatpants. She had seen him ogling the growing dark oval patch between her breasts, jiggling up and down in her sports bra as she pounded away on her treadmill run.

More than once she had spotted his more furtive glances, looking fascinated at the thin lines of sweat either side of her hot, swollen crotch, the flexible lycra pulling up between her labia with each fast stride, outlining her sex crease provocatively. Once she even saw him licking his lips. She had run harder and faster then, blushing a little as she watched the awed look on his face, but relishing the sense of control she had over his clear desire for her.

Slammed out of her reverie, Ava suddenly had a thought. What if, when she met him today, he was going to instruct a slave sex regime that wouldn't allow her to come at all? He might be her master, but it was still her body. She made a quick decision. After all, it was only after she'd met Lorenzo Ava had become comfortable with her own arousal, so why not check everything was working properly?

She sat down on the edge of the small stool, pointing her toes and spreading her long legs wide apart. Flattening her palm over her clean pubis she imagined her hand was her future master's hand. She dipped a digit deep inside herself experimentally, fondling herself in this most delicate place, then removing the finger. Under the light she was surprised to see a delicate moisture already, her finger slightly damp with pre cum juice, her glistening sex slide.

She glanced down, watching, fascinated as her inner lips began to gently descend, pushing out between her legs like a delicate tulip unfurling. She realised with a start that, in readying itself for Lorenzo, maybe her body was helping to make today's tough decision for her. She slipped her hand down again, fingering her tight clitoris with a delicate touch, moving a long manicured index finger back and forth rapidly across the tight, hard flesh bud. Her round hips rising and falling gently, Ava panted and gasped as she reached a glorious climax, her master astride her in her slave-driven mind.

After her exertions a light sheen glistened on her body, so Ava carefully washed over her pubic mound and labia, lightly drying herself off. Still naked, she stood at the dresser and opened her Victorian jewellery casket, a prized possession Lorenzo had given her last Christmas, with its Für Elise music box and twirling ballerina.

She selected her silver art deco bracelet, pearl earrings and a delicate sparkling emerald necklace. Then she opened the black box Lorenzo had delivered to her office the previous day. Ava had reviewed the items the previous evening. She knew that leaving her office in what he'd selected for her was going to be tricky.

She pulled out the first item of clothing in the box, holding it up to the light. Lorenzo had selected a sheer satin black top, adorned with white pearl buttons and which plunged seductively in the centre. The other piece was an orange velour skirt which she knew immediately was at least one size too small for her hips.

She pulled the skirt on first, not without some difficulty, zipping it up at the side. Staring at herself in the mirror she could see it was very, very short. The slightest movement, raising either of her legs, and her thigh gap and labia could be seen peeking out from underneath the skirt's hem.

Ava had to sort this, knowing it was too short for public decency. She also wondered if Lorenzo had got the wrong skirt size deliberately, perhaps to teach her a lesson about subservience and control. Ava slipped off the skirt and pulled out her tight black leopard print body stocking from a wardrobe drawer. At least this would cover her modesty up on the way to the meeting and in the taxi. She guessed she could always find somewhere to remove it before she met him.

Ava was about to leave but, at the last minute, thought once more about his very clear demand for no underwear. Suddenly she was worried. What if he was watching her from the ground floor as she left the taxi and entered the building. Might he not see that she had something on under the short skirt? Even though he loved it, might he say the body stocking failed the 'no panties' instruction? Might he punish her for this transgression?

She pulled the body stocking off again, careful not to ladder it, opting instead for sheer black hold-up stockings. She popped the body in her Gucci bag, as backup, just in case.

Ava looked at herself for a final time in the mirror. She felt almost naked compared to her office suit but knew this was exactly the look Lorenzo desired of her. All she had on now was three items of clothing. The thin dark top, cut low to reveal her swelling breasts, the tight nub of her prominent nipples clearly visible. Twinned with the short, sexy orange skirt and her sheer black stockings, she looked expensive, yet slutty, available. He would love it.

She'd added her black six inch high heels, a practical measure she knew from experience would keep their height difference to a minimum, for whatever he had planned for her that afternoon.

She started as her mobile rang, telling her the taxi had arrived outside. Pausing to check her lipstick and smooth down the slinky skirt as low as it would go, she rushed out.