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discipline not to. A few paces took me to a position in front of her. As I’d thought from my limited viewpoint earlier the top was tight, stretched across her breasts, showing the pattern of her bra through it. Deliberately staring at her chest produced the desired result. Not only did her nipples appear as indentations in the tight cloth but she began to blush as she realised the effect I was having on her body. Stepping aside I ushered her toward the stairs.
    Resuming my position behind her I climbed the stairs, a good four steps below her, marvelling at her taut buns moving under the denim, as each leg took one step at a time. We reached the door to the office section and I sped up and opened it for her in a gentlemanly fashion. She gave me a tight but nervous smile of thanks and then I opened the door to my own office, ushering her to the same seat she had occupied the previous afternoon.
    “So tell me, Amy, what do you feel now you are here?”
    “Well . . . I feel nervous . . . sir.”
    “Nervous about what?”
    She kept glancing at the video camera pointing at her from the tripod to the side.
    “The camera, I take it?”
    “In part, sir . . . um . . . master.”
    “The camera has one purpose, to ensure I have a record that you are doing this of your own free will and not being coerced, or for that matter, raped.”
    She gulped.
    “What else is making you nervous?”
    “Well, I’m hoping you aren’t going to hurt me, sir.”
    “So, you are a submissive but you are not a masochist? Is that right?”
    She nodded slowly.
    “That’s fine. I’m a dominant but I’m not a sadist either. So I’ll not hurt you...”
    Amy looked relieved.
    “...much. Unless I have to because you do not do as you are told. Do you understand me?”
    “Yes, master.”
    “Do as you are told and you’ll be fine then, won’t you?”
    She nodded again.
    “So tell me, Amy, what do you want me to do now?”
    She raised her eyes to look straight into mine with a long searching look, at the end of which she had obviously seen what she needed or wanted to see. She took a big breath.
    “Whatever you want to do, master.”
    I leaned back in my chair and steepled my fingers in front of my face, my eyes not leaving her face.
    “Slave, stand up.”
    She took another large breath and rose to her feet.
    “Kick the shoes off.”
    One she’d complied I could see she was already panting as the process began and I smiled.
    “Lose the jeans. I don’t like my slaves to wear pants of any sort.”
    Her fingers dropped to the belt of her jeans and slowly pushed the buckle undone.
    “On second thoughts, remove the belt from the jeans and hand it to me. That might come in handy later.”
    She stiffened at the implication but complied with the order, leaning across the desk to hand it to me. Quickly I doubled it in my fist and snapped out the slack making a satisfying noise. Amy jumped at the crack as it echoed across the room but resumed undoing the button at the top of her fly.
    A moment later she lowered the zip and then paused for a second, biting her lip. Obviously she saw this moment as the point of no return. Silly girl, she had passed that particular point much earlier in the process, simply by turning up.
    Then, before I could say anything to her, before she stimulated my displeasure or a semblance there of, she began to wriggle out of the tight garment. The wriggling was rather fetching, emphasised as it was by her desire to retain her panties in place while she did so, the jeans were that tight. They dropped below crotch level and she began to caress them down her long legs. This was the first time I had had the chance to see her naked legs, the first time I had seen her legs above the knee at all. Always before, she had been wearing the regulation uniform knee length skirt and black, nearly opaque tights.
    Now as she shimmied out of the jeans I saw her naked legs for the first time. She hopped onto one leg and slowly pulled them clear