The Breaking of Kitty Pt2

Katherine spent that evening, as well as Saturday and Sunday in a state of heady agitation. She was nervous. She was excited. She was horribly restless. Overall, she was desperately horny and already missing the pictures and stories of pain and torture that had turned her on so much. She resorted to some ancient Playgirl magazines she had bought some 20 years ago on holiday. They failed to hold her attention for long.

She shopped in the local town on Saturday morning and bought razors, the shaving foam and moisturisers that Master M had recommended. She remembered his words and blushed furiously in the chemist’s, sure that the checkout girl knew that she intended to shave her pussy. Katherine could feel the wetness in her panties and smelt the aroma of her desire through her jeans; she had to stop herself looking down at her crotch to see if it was stained. In the supermarket, she stocked up on food for the week, and on impulse, she added a packet of spring-loaded wooden clothes pegs and a thin rope washing line to her basket even though she had an expensive tumble dryer at the cottage. During her trip to town, Katherine had the uneasy feeling that she was being watched, but dismissed it as ridiculous and a result of her current overactive imagination. She knew no one here and no one knew her.

She found Spencer Street on her way home; it wasn’t quite what she expected. It was a quiet street with the large council-owned cemetery as the main feature and a few run down offices and warehouses on either side. There were no fancy restaurants or hotels in sight. Katherine had been hoping for a late, lazy, expensive lunch followed by some amazing afternoon sex, but

Spencer Street offered no such facilities. Never mind, perhaps he worked nearby and would whisk her off somewhere nice, she mused. The rest of the weekend passed slowly. Katherine cleaned the cottage from top to bottom, not really knowing why, as she had no intention of bringing a strange man home on a first date. She may be have been forward, but there were certain boundaries that she would not overstep. She tried to concentrate on a book, and later the television, but neither could hold her attention. The computer in the corner seemed to be taunting her to power it up and satisfy herself with the images of perversion and punishment she had so recently discovered. But, and this felt crazy even to herself, Katherine resisted and used her willpower as a sort of test of her obedience to her new ‘Master’. She told herself that she could surf as much as she liked after she had met Master M and explained to him that the internet was far too important to her to be off-limits. She did check for messages every 10 minutes or so but was disappointed each time until, just before she went to bed on Sunday night, the ‘new mail’ icon flashed at her.

Her heart rate jumped as she opened it. ‘Good evening, katherine. I trust you have had a productive weekend.