She came in again, with a dog, a nice golden spaniel, I think it was. I noticed she'd taken her tights off. She had calf length boots on. She'd taken ...er tights off, and put the boots back on. I thought this was very odd, but it did cross my mind that she thought I'd be able to get her clothes off more easily that way, and that she might want me to. As she sat on a sofa and stroked her dog, I crossed the room and knelt down, and stroked it too. It wasn't long before I was stroking her. Smoothie. And still it didn't come. Instead, I heard the staccato tap-tap-tap of the baton hitting her thigh, the tap of her foot on the carpet. I held my breath, afraid to relax, afraid to hope. I cried out pitifully when the point of the baton poked me lightly on the buttock."How do they fit?" she asked calmly."W-what, mistress?" I stammered. Breath passed in and out of my lungs in frightened little gasps. I had been so scared."The shoes," she clarified patiently. "How do they fit?" Just fine,. More

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