Jane was waiting patiently, or as patiently as possible given M'Lady was about to send a text. Checked her phone, yes, the battery was fully charged.

She was naked, just a silk dressing gown, hanging open. Yes, there was a full signal.

Body free of hair, moisturised, smooth soft skin. Volume on high, perhaps she had missed it?

Lady Ruth had explained the rules last week. She would send a text message, details of Jane's wardrobe for the day. Jane would have just one hour to get dressed, and drive to their coffee shop, kiss M'Lady on the cheek. Lateness would be punished. Even a single second would get a dozen savage blows, M'Lady was skilled with her dragon cane.

Jane was wet. Anticipation? Fear? That dragon cane was evil. Eagerness for the game? Lust for M'Lady? Or just the fact that M'Lady had imposed chastity on her five days ago? Honour based, but very real for Jane. Breaking chastity was not thinkable, too painful to contemplate. Aching. Wet. Desperate for satisfaction.

Her phone trilled, a text. The text.

Your hot cerise pink underwear, including the suspender belt, tan stockings - straight seams. The yellow strappy sundress. Black patent stilettos with ankle straps. The matching patent clutch bag.

The race was on. Jane pressed the timer on her phone,


No time to dawdle.

The knickers and bra were easy to find. Her magnificence was smoothly cupped. A voluptuous cleavage as the bra brought out the beauty of her 34E breasts.

But where was the sussie? Not in the top drawer. Number two... Number three. Jane was beginning to stress. Underwear exploded over the bedroom as her search accelerated to desperation.

Got it.


Stockings -- what a faff. Breathe Jane, calm down. More haste, less speed. Careful sorting these. The last thing you need now is a laddered stocking. Who decided we need seamed stockings anyway? And why insist on straight ones? Fashion rules, pah! Who need them?

Jane patiently made sure they were straight. Fashion rules may stink, made to be broken. But M'Lady had said straight seams, and breaking M'Lady's rules was for the foolish.

Plenty of time, the car journey to town is only 20 minutes.


Dress, that was easy. A bit thin this early in the year, a slip under it, that will help, and the dress will hang better. M'Lady always wanted her to look smart. Mirror check, yes that is it.

Damn, no. That is not it. If M'Lady had wanted a slip she would have asked for it. Dress off, slip off. Dress on. Mirror check, umm thin cotton in pastel lemon yellow was not really hiding hot pink underwear. But still, it is technically Spring, so a sundress is not unusual if a little early. And most people don't see what is front of their eyes.


Shoes. Black patent stilettos, lovely shoes, higher than Jane liked, but they are gorgeous. Yes, the ankle straps are fiddly to use, but at least they stay where they are put. M'Lady joked they were her bondage shoes, once in them there was no escape

Breathe, plenty of time.


Purse, phone, lippy all in the clutch bag. Not the most obvious choice for elevenses down the coffee shop, but at least it matches the shoes. Last check in the mirror by the door. Jane ran the text back through her head, hot pink underwear, check. Stockings, check. Straight seams, twisted round, squinted down, straight-ish, check. Lemon sundress, check. Stilettos, check.

Car keys, out the door.


Car starts first time, plenty of fuel, don't panic, just drive smoothly. Relax...Classicfm on the radio, good move, let's hope it is something calming. Opening chords of Beethoven's Pastoral - perfect. Pay attention to the road, try not to think about the lust between her legs, or the ticking of the clock.

Off the estate, and onto the main road.


What's this? A queue. Traffic never queues here, what's happening? Temporary traffic lights, again. Digging up the road, again.

Should be ok. Hope I get through on this cycle how many cars ahead of Jane 15...16...maybe 17? That is a lot. How many are they letting come though the other way? 5...8...12...16. Umm, might make it through. There is a break in the flow, they should change in a moment.


Ok, we are moving now. Jane is silently praying to the spirit of Stirling Moss. Hope the drivers ahead are paying attention otherwise it will be trouble. Four cars left ...three. Jane might make it, going to be close. Come on boy, pay attention keep up with the car in front. Phew made it. Mirror, the car behind was stopped by the amber.

Jane hoped there would be no more unexpected delays, a nice easy run into town.


Made good time. Desperate for a good fucking from M'Lady. Oh, a parking space, Jane nips in smoothly. Fortuna, Goddess of Luck is smiling on Jane today.

Gathered her purse, car keys, ping the lock.

Just the walk through the shopping arcade. Jane's arms had goose bumps, was it just the air conditioning, or nerves? Perhaps the excitement, anticipation. Not seen M'Lady for a week, not been allowed to touch herself for five days. Jane was eager.

A floral print caught her eye, that's a lovely dress. Jane checked which shop it was, a mental note, for later. No dawdling girl.


It was taking Jane longer to walk through than expected. These skyscraper heels impossible to walk fast.

Their coffee shop appears as Jane rounds the corner.


Where is M'Lady? Jane must kiss her on the cheek for the clock to stop.


Just seconds, where is she?

Is that her? Maybe?

Not wearing her usual jacket, hair looks different, swept back, may not be her. Jane can't kiss a random stranger. She smiles. Yes, it is. Jane weaves through the chairs and tables.

Her phone trills - the timer is done. She is late. Shit.


A kiss on the cheek. Fingers crossed, perhaps M'Lady's timer hasn't gone off yet.

"You are late, my dragon shall feast on your flesh tonight."

She bustles away to organise some coffees, perhaps M'Lady's favourite cake to distract her, put her in a good mood.

They chatted about all sorts, they spoke two, or three times on the phone every day, but had not actually seen each other for a week, ten days. Jane was desperate to touch herself. Or better still for M'Lady to touch her, to pinch her nipples, caress her skin. Yes even to feel the cane stroke, even though it will be hard and vicious. Any touch just to break the spell. Jane thought she might even be capable of spontaneous orgasm just looking at M'Lady, elegant poised, totally in control.

Dreaming of M'Lady's thumb on her clitoris, fingers opening her, fist invading her.

Yes please, oh, God, yes please...

"Slip these on, girl."

Jolted back to reality.

Just as well M'Lady had selected a quiet corner of the café, two frilly garters, pink, sat on the table.

Jane was puzzled, she already had a suspender belt on -- but you don't argue with M'Lady. It was embarrassing to do it in public and awkward over the high stilettos. No doubt that was her intention, Jane felt her cheeks warm.

"Now unfasten your suspenders, no leave the belt on. Just unfasten them so they run free across your smooth silky thighs."

M'Lady carried on as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred Jane mentally shrugged, M'Lady will have a plan. She will make it known in good time.

"Perfect", M'Lady lent into another kiss.

The touch of cold metal on Jane's shoulder, the snick from a pair of scissors, again on the other side. Deftly M'Lady completed the exercise. Cutting the straps off at the front too. The sundress was supported by the elastic of the boob tube top. A boob tube stretched to contain Jane's bounty.

What is M'Lady's devious plan? There is a method here, just that Jane cannot figure it out yet.

"Come on, let's go home, here, you carry my shopping."

Two fancy paper bags, one a bottle of something tall and straight, the other small, from a swanky jeweller, little raffia carry handles for both of them, just as well. With the clutch purse in her other hand both hands are suddenly occupied.

They leave the café; Jane feels great for the first few yards. Walking with M'Lady. Well kind of, M'Lady was twenty feet behind her. No hurry to catch up. Content to watch the sway of Jane's hips, exaggerated by the stilettos.

Jane realises the challenge M'Lady has set. The sway of her body, the straps cut from the sundress. This boob tube never designed to work this hard to contain them. Jane clamps her elbows to her sides, relaxes her wrists tries to pretend this is natural. If only she didn't have M'Lady's shopping to carry, and that damn clutch purse. Why couldn't she have worn a strappy messenger bag?

Hoping it is not too obvious that she is desperately trying to hold her dress up -- without using her hands.

Nobody seemed to be noticing, relief.

What was that? Oh no! Jane could feel the right garter shift, drop. Risking a glance down, her stocking was starting to wrinkle. Norah Batty, this is not good, can she reach down, bend down? Not really that means letting go of the dress, her boobs will slip out, anyway her hands are full.

A seat, there are some seats coming up. She can re-group, if she can make it that far

Damn they are occupied, her face is hot, no longer a small pink spot on her cheeks.

Jane will have to keep going.

Can feel it getting worse, slipping down her calf. Keep moving, maybe nobody will notice, Jane has little choice. M'Lady is still some yards behind her, no sign that she has any intention of coming to Jane's aid.

Two pensioners were walking towards her, deep in conversation. One looked across at Jane, looked her up and down. Tutted loudly and turned to her friend who also looked, stared closely at Jane. Her displeasure plain. Jane must be a slut for letting her stockings go.

Jane flushed bright red. Arms trapped to her body to keep her breasts from escaping the dress. Hands full, she might as well have been in cuffs. Her right stocking already round her ankles, left stocking heading the same way.

M'Lady kept watching, but doing nothing to lessen the embarrassment Jane felt.

She could hardly walk, the shame, the helplessness -- she was desperately wet, eager to be fucked.

Students, a group of five or six young women, laughing and giggling at some joke came through the doors, a leggy long-maned blonde the ringleader. A Queen surrounded by her courtiers, laughed, nodded towards Jane. They had seen her, the laughter was raucous and loud, drawing attention to themselves and to the source of their amusement.

Beetroot red.

There was bunching at the automatic doors, people slowing down. Jane had no choice. Her hands were full, too many complications to use an old-fashioned door. She had to wait her turn, in shame.


She ran for the car, or ran as best she could in 6" stilettos, stockings trailing around her ankles, hands full, arms clamped to sides and her boobs bouncing around trying to escape.

Car keys. Where are the car keys? Hands full, that damned clutch purse. Sotto voce - M'Lady you bitch.

Juggling everything Jane took the risk the dress will stay up for a few seconds, rummages, fumbles the keys, presses the pinger.

And in, safe for now.

A few seconds later M'Lady joined her in the passenger seat, a big smile on her face. Jane was bright red, and desperate. Wet, Eager. She would have climbed over M'Lady right there in the carpark if she could. M'Lady drops her pashmina into Jane's lap. Slides a hand underneath, lifts the hem of that damn sundress.

One finger on her clit. Just one.

Jane's orgasm explodes through the embarrassment, through the chastity, through the humiliation, through the obedience, through the shame.