Emilia

It was early evening, but still the darkness closed in, the fog swirling oppressively round the street corner. The carriage slowed, and halted outside a terrace of substantial houses. The door swung open, letting in the cold air. Emilia shivered, hunching her shoulders together under her cloak. Her companion, an older woman, perhaps thirty, leant over and whispered in her ear.

'Be sure what you are doing. I cannot come with you and there will soon come a point beyond which you cannot return.'

Emilia swallowed hard, blinking as if to clear her mind as she cleared her eyes. She had told Larissa of her dreams; they had troubled her, not so much because of what she did, but of how they made her feel. She shuddered slightly, fighting an almost overwhelming impulse to close the door and leave. Absent-mindedly, almost to no-one, she replied, 'I shall go.'

With that, she pulled the fur-trimmed hood over her head and stepped down from the carriage. The footman held the carriage door and she walked to the door of the house. As she mounted the first step, she noted the solidity of the door, the polished brass of the door knocker fashioned as a lion's head. She had hardly ascended the second step when the door opened, noiselessly, a silver-haired butler bowing his head slightly to her as she swept through the entrance. She drew back the hood and loosed the tie of the cloak from her throat. A maid, severe in black and white took her cloak and waited as she pulled her gloves from long, slim fingers.

'Please be seated; I shall tell the Master that you have arrived.' He indicated a chair.

'I would stand, thank you.'

'As you wish ma'am.' He retreated.

She looked around the room. It was not by any means lavish. A small fire burnt in the grate, and the floor was covered with a simply patterned rug. The walls were of dark wood panelling, and the curtains of heavy, red material. A small chandelier hung from the high ceiling. The chair to which she had been directed was of black wood, beautiful in form but austere. There were other, similar chairs. Above the fireplace was a large mirror. From where she stood, she could see herself, almost full length. She had not known what to wear for this occasion. Social events were easy enough, but this private appointment was different. She had settled for the dove-grey silk. She had been told it complimented her blue eyes. Larissa had told her not to worry, as her costume would be ready for her. She wondered what that meant exactly. She was still regarding herself intently, querying whether she would look as she did in her dreams when she heard a small cough. Turning, the maid had returned.

She curtseyed, 'Please, ma'am, follow me.'

She followed the maid down a corridor, floored with black and white tiles. She had felt such tiles in her dreams, as she knelt on them, or crawled to the feet of an unknown master. They would be hard and cold against warm skin. The maid opened a side door, and stood back, to one side.

'Please enter, ma'am. The master will see you'

This room was darker than the first. Dim gas lights around the room provided a pale yellow light. Directly opposite the door stood a man. He wore immaculate evening dress. Sitting erect in a chair to his right was a woman. She wore black silk, the high collar reaching almost to her chin, the sleeves falling to gloved hands. Only her face was visible behind her clothes. She must have been the same age as Larissa, but where her friend was plump and smiling, this woman was stern and slender. Her gloved hands grasped either end of a riding crop.

'Welcome' said the man, 'I hope your journey here was pleasant. Your friend Larissa has told us all about you, and about your troubling dreams. She has told us too, that you wish to experience your dreams. Is this correct?'

She could only nod.

'We assure you of our discretion, which is absolute. You realise that you may leave now, if you desire?'

'I do not wish to leave.'

'That is good. You will be asked one more time. If you wish to remain then, you must stay the course for tonight. You will not be harmed. I hope you understand.'

'I do.'

'Excellent. I see you have the desire to experience that which shocks you but attracts you at the same time. I shall leave you in the tender care of Madame Jacqueline here. You will obey her implicitly and address her at all times as Ma'am. You will not address me at any time unless directly spoken to. In this case, you will refer to me simply as Master. Do you understand?'

'Yes, Master'

The man turned to leave. The woman remained seated.

'Look at me, child!' Emilia had turned to watch the man leave.

'Strip.' It was spoken quietly, but with authority.

'But...'

'No buts, little slut. And do not forget to refer to me as ma'am. As you are new, I will let those two slips go this time, but your obedience must be instant and unquestioning or you will be severely punished.' She flexed the crop menacingly.

The grey dress buttoned down the front, fortunately, and was easy to remove. The petticoats too. She stood there in her underclothes, breathing heavily and blushing red.

'Do not stop. I shall provide some help.' she leaned over to pull the cord, and the maid returned.

'Our guest is shy. Please remove her underclothes.'

The maid obeyed with alacrity, loosening the corset and puling down Emilia's drawers and stockings. The humiliation of being stripped by the maid in full view of the other woman was stinging at Emilia, but she could feel the familiar knot in the pit of her stomach tightening. Soon, she was naked, covering herself ineffectually with either hand. The maid gathered the clothes, leaving the room as silently as she had arrived.

The seated woman laughed, 'From now, Emilia has been left outside, with your discarded clothes. You may now chose to leave if you desire.'

'I choose to stay.'

'I choose to stay, who?

'I choose to stay, ma'am.'

'That is better. Now kneel before me. No, back on your heels, open your legs wider. Now cross your wrists in front of your body and hold them outstretched. Head down.'

She stood, walking slowly towards the kneeling woman.

'What will we call you? Clea. I think.'

Clea was now shivering. The deep carpet was soft on her knees, and the fire to her left was warm. She had been so transfixed by the woman at whose feet she knelt that she had not noticed anything else in the room.

'You are beautiful in your submission, Clea. We shall start with a lesson in sense and sensuality. Please cross your wrists at the small of your back.'

She walked behind Clea, and quickly looped a soft, thick cord several times around her wrists. She pulled the bonds tight. The bell was rung again, Clea twisting to see the woman behind her.

'Still. I did not tell you to move.'

There was a rustle of skirts, presumably the maid. Clea looked up as Madame Jacqueline walked round to face her again.

'You are used to relying on many senses, but if we restrict them to just one, you will see how sensitive you are to small stimuli. There will be no pain, and you will not be violated. Please open your mouth.'

Clea was unsure whether she was obeying or protesting, but as she opened her mouth, it was filled with a soft leather gag that seemed to fill her mouth, stretching her jaws wide.

'Your eyes are so expressive now that speech is denied you. It is truly beautiful.'

Clea tried to spit out the gag, but it was securely fastened by straps that the maid was buckling at the nape of her neck. She then felt a soft leather hood pulled down over her head. It fitted her face snugly, and extended down her neck, blocking all light. The seemed to be a hole for her to bretahe through her nose. Then she felt it being cinched tight, and heard three small clicks, as if of locks. Jacqueline's voice was indistinct now, 'do not panic, breathe slowly through your nose. You will come to no harm.'

She felt someone hold her head up, and a thick collar was slipped around her neck over the hood. This too was pulled snug and buckled. It was very high and thick, made of stiff leather and held her chin high. Her wrists were released from their bonds.

Again, the voice, muffled by the leather of the hood, 'The hood and collar are locked with six padlocks. You may feel them, if you desire to know for yourself.'

She did. It was true. She counted six; three on the collar at the back, and three more at the back of the hood. The feeling of enclosure was overwhelming, and deeply arousing.

'You will now place your hands on your thighs, straighten your back and hold that position. Do not even consider relaxing.'