Jennifer and Slave Sarah

Before we can continue our lunchtime discussion, Pete notices that there's a message on the answerphone. It's from his brother Greg, reminding Pete to call round to his place this afternoon. Pete decides that he had best go at once, although I suspect he really wants to give Sarah-Anne and I more time alone. Throughout our time together today, Pete has seemed anxious that Sarah-Anne and I renew our friendship. I'm willing enough, but Sarah-Anne's feelings on the subject are less clear. It means revealing more about her relationship with Pete, and I'm not certain how ready she is to do that. Pete exchanges phone numbers with me before leaving with a promise to catch up with me over the next few days if he doesn't see me later on today.

"It's great to see you again," I say to Sarah-Anne when she shows no sign of initiating a conversation. "And you are looking so well."

"Thank you, Mistress Jennifer," replies Sarah-Anne. "It's good to see you again."

"Why do you call me 'mistress'?" I ask, slightly shocked by her continued use of the term. "We are friends, Sarah-Anne. You don't need to call me mistress."

"But I do, don't you see," replies Sarah-Anne.

"No, I don't see," I say quietly. "Is it because Pete calls you his slave and keeps you locked in a collar and cuffs?"

"Pete is my dom," replies Sarah-Anne. "My master, if you prefer that term. But he isn't the one who makes me wear these restraints. I'm the one who chooses to wear them. I can remove them at any time, but I only do so when I take a shower. Pete has helped me to discover what I need to do to overcome my bad emotions and be happy. And being someone's slave really works for me. Yes, I know it's slightly kinky, and Pete isn't always comfortable with me being his slave. Our relationship sometimes interferes with his work. It took him a while before he was able to order me about and tell me what to do and when. He only does so because he's a good friend and it's what I want him to do. I would like you to do the same. I want to be your slave as much as Pete's slave. I need to call you Mistress Jennifer and for you to think of me as your obedient slave. You can even call me 'Slave' if you like."

"I'm not certain I can ever call you 'Slave', but I do want us to be close friends again," I reply.

"Thank you. At least call me Sarah rather than Sarah-Anne. It identifies the strong person that I've become rather than the wreck of a person I was before. In time you may feel able to call me Slave Sarah. I would like it if you could manage to do that. Don't be embarrassed about giving me orders. I'll say 'Please, no, Mistress' if I don't feel able to do as you command."

"OK, I'm willing to give it a try. But I want you to talk to me and be my friend as well."

"Thank you, Mistress Jennifer. Yes, of course I'll talk with you like before."

I'm still a little unsure about what I'm getting myself into with Sarah-Anne. But I can't deny that she seems healthier and happier than at any time in her past. I wouldn't have gone as far as calling her former self a 'wreck', but this new woman is definitely more self confident and assured. She now takes care with her appearance and in her surroundings, which can't be a bad thing. Despite my natural abhorrence to the concept of slavery, it does paradoxically seem to work for her. But it's a big responsibility taking control of any part of another person's life.

"I wouldn't mind a coffee," I say, testing my ability to give Sarah-Anne an order.

"Would you like me to make you a coffee, Mistress Jennifer?" responds Sarah-Anne.

"Yes, please," I reply, realising that my first statement wasn't a direct order. "White, no sugar."

Sarah-Anne goes over to the kitchen and makes coffee for the two of us. At least I don't need to order her to make herself a drink. When she returns with the drinks she briefly hesitates between kneeling on the rug, and sitting besides me on the couch. I feel relieved when she opts for the couch, saving me from having to command her to get off the floor. I don't think I could cope with having to tell her to do everything. I think she realises my unease.

"So, tell me about your life with Pete," I ask.

"I'm not sure you'd approve," replies Sarah-Anne evasively. "As you can probably guess, it isn't the normal boy-girl situation. Please understand that I'm really happy with it though. And I would like it if you were part of my lifestyle too."

I'm glad that she didn't add 'Mistress Jennifer' to her reply. It's as though she realises that I'm not entirely comfortable with the term, and its overuse would be a turn off for me.

"Um ... Well, I said that I want us to be friends again. But I've no experience at this sort of thing."

"Do you have a boyfriend?" asks Sarah-Anne, out of the blue.

"Not at the moment. My last boyfriend dumped me because he thought me too much of a control freak. I suppose I deserved it. I wasn't very tactful when I told him that I didn't like the way he never consulted me before deciding where we were going on our dates."

"Are you game for a blind date tonight?" asks Sarah-Anne. "We could make it a foursome. Pete has gone to collect his cousin Daniel who has been staying with his brother Greg. Pete said that he feels bad about leaving Daniel on his own tonight."

"Yes. OK," I reply, more attracted to Sarah-Anne's proposal because I want to spend time with her than the dubious benefits of a blind date with Pete's cousin. "What time and where?"

"Can we meet here at eight o'clock?" asks Sarah-Anne. "If you prefer, I can lend you something to wear and you can get ready here. It'll save you having to go home and back again."

"Alright. I'll need to ring home and let my parents know that I'll not be home until later tonight. Are you sure you don't mind lending me something to wear?"

"That's no problem. I've plenty of suitable clothes upstairs."

Sarah-Anne calls Pete from her landline phone and tells him that his cousin can join us tonight. Pete seems delighted. My mum's reaction to my call isn't so enthusiastic. My parents still have a tendency to worry about my safety if I go out on a Saturday night. But my mum seems genuinely pleased that I've met up with Sarah-Anne again.

Sarah-Anne and I spend a while catching up on each other's news. Despite my earlier question, we skirt around the subject of her living arrangements with Pete, but if we are going out with Pete's cousin tonight, then I need to ask her a question about her relationship with Pete and I.

"What will Daniel think about you wearing your collar and cuffs, and your living arrangement with Pete? I'm only asking because I need to know what to expect tonight."

"I presume Daniel knows about Pete's part in my life but I don't know how he feels about it. Are you still alright about tonight?"

"Yes," I reply, a little unsure. "But how do you want me to behave towards you, and vice versa?"

"You are my mistress," replies Sarah-Anne. "I would like it if I could introduce you as such, and if you behave that way towards me. But only if you agree. I know this is all very sudden for you, and I don't want you to be uncomfortable. Pete's not a natural dom, and it's more of a sexy game than a lifestyle to him."

"I'm not a natural dom either," I reply. "But I'll give it a try."

"I think you'll find it easy to be my dom," replies Sarah-Anne. "Let's go upstairs and find an outfit for you."

Sarah-Anne takes me upstairs to one of the back bedrooms. It's furnished as a sort of workshop, with a large wardrobe along one wall.

"Is this where you work?" I ask, recalling that Sarah-Anne mentioned earlier that she worked from home, designing and making her own range of clothing.

"Yes, here and in the garage downstairs," replies Sarah-Anne. "I design and produce bespoke clothing for Pete's clients. These are some samples Pete shows to his clients."

Pete didn't mention what sort of work he's engaged in, so I've no idea what sort of clients Sarah-Anne means. She opens the wardrobe door to reveal a rack of dresses and other garments. Some are made of fabric, but the majority are predominantly vinyl, latex or leather. Sarah-Anne gauges my size and removes half a dozen garments from the wardrobe. My heart flutters when I get a closer look at the garments. The quality of the clothes is excellent, and if Sarah-Anne has designed and made these herself, then she is very talented. But all of them are the sort of gear that someone into bondage and discipline games would wear. I'm not certain I can bring myself to wear any of them. It's only the look of expectation on Sarah-Anne's face, and my own slowly mounting arousal, that prompts me to examine the offered garments more closely.

On closer inspection I convince myself that I can bring myself to wear a couple of the garments. One is a sleeveless latex mini-dress, and the other a white blouse with red leather laced corset and a matching short leather skirt.

"Which do you think looks better?" I ask Sarah-Anne.

"The black latex dress, Mistress," replies Sarah-Anne. "The red leather is the wrong shade for your complexion. I can make one for you in the right colour if you really like the outfit."

Chapter 3: Friend or Pimp

"Is this dress going to be suitable for tonight?" I ask. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Pete didn't say, but we usually go to a local club or a bar. You should be fine in that dress. Have you worn latex clothing before?"

"No," I reply. "This is all new to me."

"Normally you would need to spread talc or lube on your body and on the inside of the dress before you put it on. But this dress has been chlorinated, so it will be easier to slip on and off. But you still need to be careful that you don't rip it. Try it on for size while I find you a suitable belt and accessories. Do you prefer boots or shoes?"

"Shoes, I think. What are you going to be wearing?"

"Pete should be home in an hour. He will have collected whatever I'm to wear tonight from Greg."

"That sounds a bit weird," I laugh. "You have a fine collection of clothes here, even if they are all a bit ... um ... kinky and erotic. Why don't you wear one of these outfits?"

"Greg likes to choose the clothes I wear when Pete and I go out," replies Jenny. "Greg has a large collection for the girls who work for him. I think Greg gets a kick out of showing me off to his mates."

"Oh, so there will be more than the four of us, then?"

"No. Pete will take us to whatever club or bar Greg and his mates will be drinking at tonight. They'll just be admiring us from afar."

"That's too weird for my taste," I snap, finally drawing a line in the sand. Sarah-Anne has been pushing the boundaries of my comfort zone all afternoon, and I've finally reached my limit. "I'm not going anywhere just to be drooled over by a bunch of drunken guys. Particularly when I'm dressed in a sexy black latex dress. What are you thinking of to allow Pete and his brother to do that. You're not some prostitute who must parade herself in front of prospective clients."

There's a deathly silence for a moment and Sarah-Anne starts fidgeting nervously. "But I am," she mumbles at last. "Or at least I was until recently."

"You are what?" I say, not certain that I heard her correctly.

"Until a few weeks ago, I worked as a prostitute. Pete was my pimp."

"I think you had better explain. And quickly, before Pete returns. And make it a good explanation because I'm going to kill Pete if I don't like what I hear."

Sarah-Anne continues to fidget and looks close to tears. She's already sniffling. My anger is battling my need to comfort the girl who was once my best friend. At the moment my anger is winning.

"Stop fidgeting and snivelling, Sarah-Anne," I growl. "Pull yourself together and tell me what has been going on and how this has come about."

My strong words seem to jolt her back to her senses. I sit on a chair while Sarah-Anne gathers her composure. She finally kneels before me and launches into her story.

"Do you remember my grandmother who was my guardian after my parents died in a car crash?" begins Sarah-Anne, looking into my eyes for once.

I nod in response. I remember her grandmother as a slightly eccentric old lady who was a bit absent-minded in her later years.

"And you know that when my parents died that their estate was left in a trust for me until I turn twenty-five. This house and furniture plus about seventy thousand in the bank ... most of it from my father's life policies and company pension scheme."

"I knew that you had a trust fund left by your parents, but not the details," I reply.

"About two years before Gran died she got it into her head that banks weren't safe any more. She and Grandpa lost a lot of money in the 2008 financial crisis. I didn't know it at the time, but she withdrew all my trust money out of the bank and kept it in cash. She was the sole surviving trustee of the trust, so there was nobody to stop her. Gran hid the money somewhere but she didn't tell anybody where. My mother had taken out a life policy which gave me a small monthly income after her death until I reached eighteen. With Gran's pension, the income from mum's life policy was enough to help pay for my upkeep and the household bills, so Gran didn't need to touch the trust money. But after a while Gran started to forget things, and all of a sudden she realised that she couldn't remember where she'd hidden the cash. It's only then that she told me about what she had done. We searched and searched, but there was no sign of the money. By the time she died, shortly after my eighteenth birthday, we were getting into serious financial trouble. Mum's life policy expired when I was eighteen and I had no other income.

"I remembered that Pete had once mentioned that he had an older brother, Greg, who, quote, 'helped girls in financial difficulty'. I was getting desperate enough to ask Pete for his brother's help. I suppose I knew all along what sort of conditions were going to be attached to any help Greg provided, and Pete tried to persuade me to look at other options. But I needed money quickly to pay the overdue bills. Pete didn't want me to get involved with Greg, and instead Pete provided the help Greg would have provided had I gone to him. A loan to pay my pressing bills, a license, and access to clients."

"A license?" I ask, interrupting Sarah-Anne's story.

"When the government legalised prostitution, they required prostitutes to be registered and licensed. Name, date of birth, place of business; that sort of thing, as well as an annual medical examination for STDs. Pete helped me get the license. Once I was all set up, I started work in the sex trade. I had to drop out of college, of course. My hours of work didn't fit with studying for exams. Pete and Greg found and vetted clients for me, and I filled in my spare time by designing kinky clothing. About three months ago, one of my clients showed an interest in my clothing designs, so I decided to start producing a few to sell. My grandfather ran a tailors shop before he retired, and there were some of his sewing machines and other equipment dumped at the back of the garage. Pete and Greg used their contacts to find buyers for my clothes, and I soon branched out into the bespoke design and manufacture service I showed you earlier."

"You said that you were no longer engaged in prostitution. Is that true?" I ask. I don't want to get involved in prostitution, even indirectly, and Sarah-Anne's answer is very important to me.

"Yes. I gave it up five weeks ago," replies Sarah-Anne. "When I was moving one of Grandpa's old machines I discovered the missing cash from my trust fund. I paid off what I still owed Pete, and stopped taking clients for sex. But I've kept up the clothing design and production for now. Pete suggested that I try and renew my friendship with you, but I've been too scared about how you would react when you heard about what happened to me."

"Why are you letting Greg use you in the way he does?" I ask.

"Greg knows about my submissive side, and he has been teaching Pete how to be my dom. I was okay with that since I knew Pete isn't really comfortable in that role. That's when Greg started wanting me to wear the clothes he provides when I go out with either of them. But Greg has a darker side. He tries to control me by hinting that he'll send a copy of my prostitute's license to everyone living in the street. I don't know whether his threat is serious, or if he's just playing mind games. But I can't take the risk. The license lists this address as my place of business, and I know the snobs around here won't tolerate this house being seen as a brothel. I fear that they'll drive me out of my home. I can't sell up and leave because I won't own this house until I'm twenty-five."

"So Greg is blackmailing you?"

"Um ... I wouldn't call it that ... exactly," replies Sarah-Anne evasively.

"Then what would you call it, Sarah-Anne?" I demand in a much firmer tone. "Tell me the whole story."

"Yes, Mistress," replies Sarah-Anne, sensing my darkening mood. "Greg wants me to sign a contract to be his personal assistant. He's being very persistent and his offer is very attractive. A comfortable apartment in the city and a well paid job. I feel I must give it some serious thought."

"And what does Pete think about Greg's proposal?" I ask.

"Pete has warned me against getting more deeply involved with Greg. He thinks Greg's motives aren't entirely honest."

"And what do you think about Pete's advice?"

"I don't know whether Pete is right or wrong. I wish Pete would simply forbid me from seeing Greg, but he won't do that. Pete will order me to clean up the house, or to meet him off a train, but he refuses to tell me what to do about anything important."

My earlier anger towards Pete has abated. Despite being Sarah-Anne's pimp, he at least seems to have acted with her interests at heart. But Sarah-Anne is still an emotional mess. Her submissiveness may simply be a symptom of a much deeper problem. I'm annoyed with myself for not noticing Sarah-Anne had a problem while we were at college. I was her best friend and, through ignorance, I failed her at a crucial moment. I resolve that I won't fail her a second time.

"This is what we are going to do, Sarah-Anne," I say, putting as much authority into my voice as I can muster. "Are you listening?"

"Yes, Mistress Jennifer," replies Sarah-Anne, sensing that I'm coming to her rescue by taking charge of her life.

"We will go out with Pete and his cousin tonight as you've arranged. But only for an hour. Then you and I will return here. We are not going to parade ourselves for Greg and his mates pleasure. When we get back we will discuss how we are going to break you free of Greg's clutches."

"Very well, Mistress. Thank you. May I go and find the accessories you need for that dress? Pete will be home in about twenty minutes, and it might be better if you aren't in the middle of changing."

I let Sarah-Anne go on her mission, and I enter the spare bedroom to try on the latex dress. Sarah-Anne said that the latex has been chlorinated but I've no idea what that means. However the latex certainly feels soft and slippery and it easily slides over my body. I smooth it over my body, taking care not to rip it. It's a perfect fit. I'm ready by the time Sarah-Anne returns with a silver chain belt and a pair of shoes. Luckily she and I take the same size in shoes.

Pete returns a few minutes later and seems pleased to see that I'm still here. I don't know why his cousin isn't with him, but I don't worry about his absence. Pete hands a large sealed bag to Sarah-Anne, which I presume contains the clothes Greg has sent via Pete. Sarah-Anne goes to take a shower and to put on whatever is in the bag.

"I'm glad you're still here," says Pete. "Sarah really needs a girl friend at the moment. Has she told you more about the last year."