Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 David parked the car at the end of the street and looked up at the block of
flats.  He'd driven for over six hours to get here, from the big city in
the north where he lived all the way to the outskirts of this small town on
the south coast, where she lived.  "She" was Suzanne, a girl he'd found in
a chat room, a girl who was probably pacing the floor even as he looked up
at the building.  He'd texted her to say he'd arrived and to be ready for
him.  She knew what he meant by that, and she also knew she only had a few
minutes to make her final preparations.

   They'd first found each other a couple of months earlier, she'd entered
a chat room using a nickname that left it very clear what she was after. 
Within a few seconds of seeing her enter the room David had messaged her -
Hi, how are you?  It was the standard way he started all his messages.  He
treated the chat room as a pick-up joint, he always had done, and he
chatting with the girls there as though he was interviewing them for a job.
In a way, he was.  Sometimes the girls were just there to roleplay,
sometimes they lived on the other side of the world, but every chat was an
opportunity to bounce ideas around, refine his requirements, make sure that
he found the perfect girl for him.

   ==================

   Suzanne had also entered the chat room with the specific goal of finding
someone who would treat her the way she wanted.  A young, slim, shy girl,
she hid her eyes behind a floppy fringe and dark make-up.  She'd been
brought up in foster care, her own mother deemed incapable of caring for
her due to an addiction to alcohol and a series of bad choices in
boyfriends, and when Suzanne was three years old she found herself with a
new set of parents.  She was always a quiet girl, never really wanting to
interact with anyone else, and when her foster family tried to be nice to
her she shied away, unable to accept their kindness, always feeling that
she wasn't worthy of it somehow.  Eventually they settled into a routine
where they fed her and looked after her, but didn't always engage her in
conversation.  Other than that, her childhood was happy enough, she wasn't
abused or beaten or anything, but she always felt like a fish out of water.
At the age of 18 she moved out and hadn't really been in touch since,
preferring her own company to that of "family".

   Over the next couple of years, Suzanne had a few boyfriends, but the
relationships left her feeling unfulfilled.  They were always too nice to
her, always fawning over her and wanting to buy her flowers and call her
"princess".  She hated every moment of it.  She wasn't a princess, not at
all, and in many ways she still saw herself as a little girl whose mother
didn't want her.

   As is common these days, Suzanne discovered sex and porn online in her
early teens, and she soon realised that she was drawn to the more extreme
end of things.  Bondage, domination and submission, spanking and so on all
made her pussy wet, more so than the normal sucking and fucking that all
the other kids seemed to enjoy.  What she didn't realise at the time was
that the reason she liked it was because it wasn't sex at all, it was how
the women were being treated.  None of the porn she looked at showed
sucking and fucking, it all showed pain, torture, beatings, canings, welts,
bruises, women being used for men's pleasure and then cast aside.  And the
thought of her being used in that way turned her on.  A LOT.

   So here she was, waiting nervously....  very nervously, for him to ring
the doorbell.  They'd already discussed what might happen when he got
there, so she sort of knew what to expect, but that didn't do anything to
calm her nerves.  He'd told her to wear nice underwear, a pretty dress, to
be girly for him.  She hoped that what she'd picked out would meet his
approval, and her pussy was already leaking into the gusset of the
see-through thong she'd picked out.  "Oh god...  I bet you can smell me
from a mile away" she thought, and her face blushed bright red at the
knowledge that he'd instantly know how turned on she was.  "He'll probably
be able to smell me on the other side of the door" she said to herself as
she preened in the mirror, checking her lipstick and making sure everything
was absolutely perfect for him.

   During their discussions David had mentioned the high standards he
expected her to maintain.  He'd said not to worry about it too much in the
early days, because there would be a period of training, but that didn't
make her any more confident that her appearance would be pleasing to him.

   And yet, even with the knowledge that he'd parked his car outside, that
he was walking up the stairs, that he was approaching her flat, despite
knowing all that she still very nearly lost control of her bladder as
knocked four times, very forcefully she thought, on her front door.

   ==================

   As David sat in the car his mind wandered back over the last few weeks
interaction with her.  He had occasionally stopped to think if he was
taking advantage of her, and he'd voiced his concerns to her several times.
He'd given her plenty of times to back off, and indeed she had done once or
twice.  The first time he thought he'd gone too far with her, scared her
off completely, and when he next saw her in the chat room he sent her a
message to say that he'd deleted her pictures.  Some people might have
thought he was crazy to want what he did, but he was sane enough to only
get it with consent, and he wanted to assure her that he wouldn't upload
her pics anywhere else.  Even though he wasn't expecting a reply she
messaged back to say there were no hard feelings and he didn't have to
delete her pictures, and almost straight away they picked up where they had
left off.

   He was 50 and she was 20.  Were they both naive thinking this would
work? Only time (and their level of determination) would tell, and besides,
this was only an initial meeting.  He thought about whether she'd remember
all his instructions, or that he'd at one point mentioned, in the dim and
distant past, that she should have his cock in her mouth within 30 seconds
of him entering her flat.  If she remembered that he'd be very impressed
indeed.

   It's never easy to tell whether anyone in a chat room is who they say
they are.  He'd always been trusting, sometimes a bit too trusting, and if
the chat went the way he wanted (i.e.  he masturbated and came) then he was
willing to suspend disbelief and imagine that the person he was chatting
with was who she said she was.  Suzanne, however, wasn't like most of the
others.  He'd set her a task, after they'd been chatting only two or three
days, and she'd actually carried it out.  So many times in the past he'd
set a little task for the girls, to prove to him that they wanted to be
controlled, and so many times they'd just not done anything.  The tasks
weren't anything major, just something like "send me an email on your
lunchbreak tomorrow".

   David had set Suzanne such a task.  She'd sent him a couple of photos,
but to be honest people in chat rooms can get pics from anywhere and
pretend they're them.  The photos could have come from a friend's facebook
account for all he knew.  He told her to take a picture of herself, a
selfie in the bathroom mirror, wearing her favourite lingerie and holding
up a sign with his screen name on it.  They'd already exchanged email
addresses and he told her to email him the picture.  A day passed, no
email. Then a second.  They hadn't made any plans to meet up in the chat
room, they'd just both happened to be there at the same time, and he was
almost ready to give up on her.

   At the end of the second day, he saw her again in the chat room.  He
opened up a private chat.  "Did you do that task I set you?" No hello this
time, no pleasantries.  He was half expecting her to say sorry, she forgot,
or sorry, she couldn't go through with it.  There was no reply from her for
a minute or so, and for the first time he thought he'd gone too far too
quickly.  But then a web address came up on the screen, for a popular
picture-posting site.  He clicked on the link and smiled.  There on the
screen was the same girl he'd seen in the other pics, except this time she
was showing off his name.  She's hadn't performed the task exactly to his
specifications - the mirror was on the inside of a wardrobe door and not in
her bathroom, she was wearing a bikini and not lingerie, and she'd written
his name on her stomach in lipstick instead of a piece of paper....  but it
was still good enough for him.  He thought that the stomach writing was a
really nice touch, and actually wished he'd thought of it himself.  From
that moment on he knew he had her.

   David walked up the stairs to Suzanne's flat, carrying the small bag of
"toys" he'd brought with him.  He wasn't sure if he'd use the toys on her
or not, but he thought it might be fun to see the look on her face when
seeing the tools of his trade up close.

   He knocked on her door, four times, slowly, deliberately, with
confidence.  These weren't meek "hello?  I'm so sorry to disturb you"
little taps, these were "I'm here and I want to come in, now!" knocks.  She
hadn't replied to his text message saying he'd arrived so for all he knew
she was still in the bath, maybe even with iPod headphones in.  When he
heard a little yelp of surprise from inside the flat after his first knock,
he smiled to himself, although he wasn't going to let her know her moment
of panic had pleased him.

   ======================

   Suzanne raised her hand to the door handle and tried to clear her
thoughts.  "Curtsey, greet, kneel, suck" she repeated to herself.  She'd
remembered pretty much everything he'd said to her, because the more he
said, the more she wanted him, and the more she tried to please him.

   She opened the door and suddenly found herself incapable of looking at
him.  "errr. ..  hello, Sir", she stammered, and then ducked her knees in a
clumsy attempt at a curtsey.  "Shit shit shit, it's all going fucking
wrong, he's going to think I'm a right fucking moron, shit fuck bollocky
balls.." She saw his legs and feet as he walked past her, into her flat as
if he owned the place.  She noticed that he hadn't waited for her to invite
him in.

   Suzanne stood pretty much frozen to the spot.  He mind had gone blank.
She felt his hand near hers, as he reached around to close her front door,
which she was still dumbly holding open.  She gasped when she felt his skin
touch hers.  She saw his hand approach her chin, but instead of gently
placing a finger under her chin to lift her face to his, he took hold of
the whole bottom half of her face roughly and jerked it upwards.  "Look at
me, girl" he said, as her eyes were still looking downwards.

   Slowly she lifted her eyes, looking from his feet to his knees to his
crotch (yes, her eyes lingered there) to his bear of a stomach and
eventually she looked into his deep brown eyes.  "Hello, slave" he said,
quietly, confidently.  At that point she just about melted.

   Then without any further ado he put his bag on the floor, took hold of
her shoulders, turned her body so it was facing into the flat, and said
"Kettle.  On.  Now", and gave her arse a decently hard tap to get her to
start moving.  Ok, it was more than a tap, but it got the message across.
She walked - almost trotted, actually - into the kitchen, filled the
kettle, turned it on.  She took a deep breath and looked back towards the
hallway.  He was no longer there, he'd obviously gone into the lounge to
relax.

   "Did you have a pleasant journey, Sir?" she called out.  His face
appeared from a doorway and said "Shush.  You speak when you're spoken to."
It took her a moment to realise that the doorway his head appeared from
wasn't her lounge, but her bedroom.

   She walked out of the kitchen and into her bedroom to see what he was
doing.  He looked up and saw her.  "ah-ah-ah" he said, waving a finger at
her.  He looked back down at the task in hand.  "Did I say you could move?
No I did not, so go back in the kitchen and make me that cuppa, I'll call
you when I need you".  He didn't wait for an answer, didn't give her an
opportunity to answer, and quite clearly was indicating fro his body
language that he wasn't interested in any answer she had to give anyway. 
She saw him wave his hand at her dismissively, and then his hand went back
to what it was doing earlier.  And what it was doing earlier, she noticed,
was going through the drawers in her dresser.

   When she was back in the kitchen, dutifully watching the kettle as it
ever-so-slowly heated the water, she took a moment to compose herself. 
She'd completely forgotten to kneel and suck him, but then again it seemed
that he'd forgotten about that too.  He'd only been in her flat for about a
minute, and she already felt controlled by him, and not only that, it had
taken him no time at all to get his hands in her knickers.  That thought
put a smile on her face, but then the look on her face quickly turned to
shame as she remembered that right beside her dresser was her laundry
hamper, and that on the top of the pile of dirty clothes were the knickers
she'd been wearing when she was chatting with him last night.  The knickers
that were now covered in her pussy juice.  "Oh god, " she thought as the
kettle flicked off, "please don't let him look in there..."

   She started making the cup of tea but then realised she needed to ask
him how he wanted it.  She walked out of the kitchen but decided against
entering her bedroom.  She stood at the bedroom door and thought about
saying something like "please, sir", but then she remembered about not
speaking unless she was spoken to, so she decided to get his attention with
a gentle knock on the door, even though it was open.

   He didn't look up.  To her shame she saw that he'd finished with her
dresser and had now put the laundry hamper on her bed, and was going
through her dirty clothes.  "Yes, what is it?" he said.  She took this as
her cue to speak and very meekly said "Please, Sir, but I don't know how
you take your tea."

   "White, two sweeteners, not too much milk.  Take it into the lounge and
wait for me there." She curtseyed as she turned away, even thought he
wasn't looking directly at her.  She thought he might notice out of hte
corner of his eye if she didn't, and she didn't want to make any mistakes.

   The tea and a side plate of biscuits was waiting for him on the coffee
table in the lounge.  Suzanne sat on one of the armchairs, perched on the
edge of the seat, her knees jiggling up and down as she bounced on the
balls of her feet.  She didn't notice him at the lounge door.

   "Stand up, girl!"

   He didn't exactly shout the command, but he did raise his voice
slightly. "You did not have permission to sit, and you know that full well,
don't you girl?"

   "y--yes, Sir.."

   "So why were you sitting, without permission?"

   "I...  don't know, Sir..."

   "Sit.  Floor, cross-legged".  Ho pointed to a space along the wall,
opposite where she'd set the tea and biscuits.  When he sat down he'd be
looking straight at her.

   Suzanne sat, and initially tried to protect her modesty by covering her
crotch with the dress, but then decided he wanted to see her expose herself
to him, so she lifted the skirt up to her waist and arranged it so it
didn't obscure his view.  She was bright red, knowing he was looking
straight at her crotch, and that her panties were noticeably wet.

   He sat on the sofa, opposite her.  He lifted his mug and took a sip. 
"Mmmmm", he said as he tasted the drink.  "Masturbate for me, girl.  Rub
yourself."

   Suzanne swallowed, her heart beating at what seemed like 150 beats per
minute.  "This is real now, it's really happening." She leaned up on one
cheek, ready to take her thong off.  "No, I didn't say to remove it.  It's
see-through, put your hand in from the top".  Meekly she did as she was
told, closing her eyes as she felt how much juice had escaped from her
pussy.

   "Open your eyes, girl, look at me."

   "Oh my god," she thought, "that's why he wanted me to keep the thong
on...  he doesn't want to see me play with myself, he wants to see the look
of embarrassment on my face as we make eye contact....."

   The look of embarrassment on her face got a lot worse a moment later
when he took something out of his pocket and tossed it at her.  She looked
down and saw her dirty panties from last night.

   He said only one more word to her as he sat and watched her humiliate
herself for him while he enjoyed his tea and biscuits.

   As she looked at the dirty crotch on last nights, underwear she heard
him say "Mouth", and she knew how it was going to be.