***Part One***

Dear Sir,

I am so excited to write this reflection - after the build-up that I talked about in my last email, Friday night finally arrived and your surprise for me was wonderful! :-)

Proceedings started early for me that day as I made some preparations (all but oblivious of course to the preparations you were no doubt making yourself). For me this involved going shopping for some new shoes and finding some new makeup and clothes along the way (Friday afternoon well spent, lol)

I've never been able to wear heels very successfully, but have recently discovered a style that I can walk in fairly comfortably that have a reasonable heel and the patent leather definitely appealed, so I bought some sandals in that style. I didn't want to be too dressy, but at the same time I wanted to do something a bit special, given that we were getting my collar that evening.

As I headed towards the exit of the department store, I saw some cosmetics advertising with a woman sporting gorgeous red lips. I stopped long enough to be spotted by one of the sales assistants, and shortly after found myself sitting in front of a mirror with lights all around it having all manner of products applied - and if there's one thing I've learnt from past experience, it's that you don't argue with a gay man holding a lip liner! :)

So a bag of cosmetics I'm still not entirely sure how to use later, I was out the door and on my way home, but not before a quick stop into one of my favourite dress stores, where I ended up getting a couple of tops (one of which being what I wore that night) and a skirt that I think will look good with the corsets I now know how to get into properly (but more about that in my next email).

I got home from my shopping expedition and put my new shoes on to get used to, while I pottered around the apartment, tidying up, getting things organised, etc... I had a shower, got dressed and fussed some more with my hair and make-up, in between more tidying and rearranging.

You rang to say you'd arrived and I headed downstairs to meet you, running into a couple of neighbours in the lift.

"You look nice!" one said, followed by, "Where are you headed tonight?"

If only they knew.

If only *I* knew!

I gave them the same answer I'd given various sales clerks throughout the day.

"Oh, just a bit of late night shopping for something and then probably back to my place for a quiet night in." Hmmm. It sounded feasible at the time.

I met you outside my building and headed off to get a taxi. That corner is a notorious wind tunnel of sorts and it was so windy outside as it was that I wanted to get across the road as quickly as possible, acutely aware of the fact that I had nothing on under my skirt!

I'm still getting used to the balance between practical aspects, particularly when out and about, and maintaining my submissive role, but you've been very patient in the respect thus far which is very much appreciated.

We arrived at the leather store and went straight to the collars. I liked the look of the thicker collars, but you made a good point about the issue of them restricting a bit too much (a point not lost on me later in the night ;) I'm really happy with the one we decided on with the wide but soft leather inner layer and thin strong leather outer layer, with 3 D rings which will no doubt come in handy in the future.

I put it on before I started this email, partly because it felt appropriate and partly to get used to wearing it (as we discussed), but I was interested to note the immediate reaction I had when I put it on. I think because of what it symbolises, it is very arousing to wear, even in a seemingly mundane situation, like here at the computer.

After choosing the collar you led me to the wall of floggers and instructed me to choose one. You had already disappeared earlier while I was looking at collars and had returned with a dildo and a riding crop - I've always wondered what a riding crop feels like because the whole concept is (was? lol) foreign to me, but I had this nagging feeling that I didn't necessarily want to find out. It wasn't spoken about, but you made sure I'd seen it so I had time to get used to the idea that the answer to my reluctant question wasn't far away.

In contrast, I had no such doubts about finding out what a flogger feels like and was quick to choose the long purple suede flogger that's currently lying across my lap as I type :) There was mild trepidation as you took it to the counter - something about "be careful what you wish for" perhaps - but it all made for a delightful build-up to what happened next.

Whilst at the counter you took (or made?) a phone call, the details of which I was mainly oblivious to as I continued to look around the store, until I heard you say, "I'll see you soon". You'll see who soon? Where were we going?

In the taxi, you started giving directions that definitely weren't going to get us back to my apartment and I started to wonder what was going on. I don't know how much you noticed but I spent quite a bit of the journey trying to suppress nervous laughter as we travelled in silence. You had a bag containing two implements I'd never experienced, heading to some mystery destination where apparently you were meeting a third person and all I wanted to do was burst out laughing, which would most likely have startled the already bewildered taxi driver (who probably wondered why we didn't speak a word to each other in the car) and would have presumably had less than pleasant consequences later in the night.

Eventually we got out of the taxi and all I knew was that your workplace was nearby, but I wasn't sure exactly where.

You instructed me to stand with my back against a large pillar at the base of an office building whilst you disappeared. I was grateful for the choice of location, being well lit not far from the footpath. My mind raced with possibilities while I waited for you to return.

Time inevitably moves slower in situations like that and I felt like I was waiting there for so long, when in fact I suspect it wasn't nearly as long as it seemed. My mind drifted to thoughts of my new collar and I thought about how the events and discussions of the past week, plus the purchase of the collar, had really stepped up the dynamic of our relationship.

I wondered where you were, who you were talking to, if you were watching me. I shifted around in my new heels. Comfortably uncomfortable.

Lights suddenly came on in the office directly above me - my eyes shot up to see if you were there. All I saw was a feather duster flitting around the monitors on the desks and I realised the cleaning staff were doing their rounds.

"You're not my master," I thought miserably, as my wait continued.

Finally I saw you walking towards me and I was relieved that I wasn't in fact part of some elaborate "Secretary" re-enactment ;) I followed in earnest as you led me across the road and into an office building that was, by then, deserted (I was later to discover of course that the third person was someone you were trying to convince to go home for the night, but leaving me wondering where they were and if they were going to make an appearance at some point was a nice touch, even if unintended).

The room we went into was dark, with black walls and no lights, save for the street lights that filtered in through the sheer black curtain that shut off the room from the corridor. I could make out the black meeting room table and assortment of chairs, but little else, as my eyes adjusted to the darkness.

So much happened in that room that I'm again struggling to get the timeline right, but I'll do my best to put it all back together in my mind.

Firstly, you instructed me to put my bag on the floor and remove my skirt and shoes, before bending over the table, legs apart. Yet more fiction was becoming fact as I recalled a scene from a story I wrote long ago where I was bent over a meeting table, naked from the waist down. I was nervous but extremely aroused, intrigued but completely ready to surrender to whatever you had planned. Feeling your hands on my bare flesh, I started to melt. The hand spanking warmed me up in more ways than one and you left me craving more attention when you went to get my collar.

When you returned you got me to stand up and strip completely, before putting on my collar. Once I was collared and cuffed you produced the spreader bar which sparked quite a reaction inside! I'd imagined a spreader bar being used in many fantasies of mine, but usually to keep the legs spread, but having my cuffs hooked into it introduced a new layer of physical limitation and vulnerability.

Once I was bent over the table, naked by for my restraints, arms spread wide from the spreader bar and legs spread wide to your satisfaction, you probed in and around my pussy and I felt my face flush upon hearing your reaction.

"You're so wet! Dru, you are a slut," you said, laughing.

I fought the urge to debate the point. However, given my immediate physical predicament, along with the fact that I knew neither where I was nor how many people were still in the building, I didn't really have much of a case. Well, that and it didn't seem very wise given that you were about to unwrap the riding crop.

You then slid something inside me and I realised that it was the dildo you'd bought earlier. It felt so good as you thrust it deeper while teasing my clit, and all hopes of successfully defending my honour dissolved as I started to moan.

Before I could cum though you got me to stand up and suck my own juice off the dildo.

Back over the table, I remember feeling the crop dragged ever so softly over my skin and then left on the top of my cheeks, where it stayed for some time as I remained still, not wanting to find out what would happen if I let it fall to the floor.

I had another Secretary moment when you ordered me back upright and got me to put the spreader bar behind my head, resting on my shoulders. I looked for the typewriter ;) but you had other ideas. As you threw the rope over the exposed beam above, I had too much time to really consider my situation, and actually started to have a new appreciation for those who experience “Stockholm Syndrome”.

[SC readers - Continued in part 2...]