I had only seen the image for a few seconds, but it was etched permanently on my mind. I couldn't stop thinking about it. It was one of those photographs that draw you in. Her face was in sharp focus, the rest of the picture slightly blurred. She had been naked when the photographs was taken, as far as I could tell and knelt on the floor, looking up at the camera with deep brown eyes. Her hands were behind her back; they must have been bound. What had really struck me was the bright red ball strapped into her mouth, It held her mouth open, and the painted, crimson lips stretched around it. The gag would make talking impossible, and surely restrict her to a few muffled whimpers and groans. It could not be pleasant to wear a gag like that for long.

Around her neck was a slim black collar. A bright metal chain depended in a loop from a hasp at the front of her throat, blurring out of focus as it fell to the floor. To be collared and leashed, to be led like an animal, would be such a humiliation. I couldn't think of this without feeling a knot tightening at the pit of my stomach, and a familiar warmth spreading down between my legs.

It was difficult to imagine how it would feel to be bound and gagged, kneeling in submission, but I imagine that the helplessness was a thought that had always aroused me, even if I had never dared let anyone try. My last boyfriend had tried to tie me, but I had panicked at the feeling of restraint. We'd never talked about it again, and the relationship only lasted a few weeks longer. The thought had been pushed to the back of my mind since then.

I had turned away from the photograph quickly when I heard Claire coming back into the room. It had been left, almost casually on the table at the back o the room. I didn't want her to think I'd been snooping. We'd not known each other very long, but there was something about her that had intrigued me. She had a kind of attraction that was difficult to explain. She was a bit above average height, with long dark hair and green eyes. I couldn't describe her that clearly; to me she was beautiful. I had dismissed it as a crush, like the ones I'd had on school friends, but this felt different. Two weeks ago, we'd kissed after a night out, and it was clear the attraction was mutual. Today, I'd just called round on a Saturday morning. It was the first time I'd been in her flat. And then I'd seen the photograph.

She came into the room with two cups of coffee. I knew I looked guilty.

'Are you all right?'

'Fine.' I said, taking the proffered cup of coffee, feeling anything but.

She looked at me. She looked right through me.

'er... the photograph?'

Her gaze turned to a querying look, her brow slightly furrowed. Then her eyes lit up and she laughed. She walked to the table and picked up the print.

'A hobby of mine...' she looked at me again, and her expression turned to concern. 'Is it a bit, well, weird?'

'No, it's beautiful.' I wasn't quite sure what I was saying. 'It's such a beautiful picture of a beautiful woman. Did you take it?'

I wasn't sure why I asked, or what answer I expected.

'I was very pleased with it myself. It draws you in, make you want to ask the story behind it. It's in her eyes- she's pleading with you, but you don't know if she's begging you to stop or begging you to carry on. I stopped it right down to keep the focus on her face. It's so much more erotic when you mind fills in the story and the details, don't you think.'

My mouth was dry. I was struggling for words. 'You took that yourself?'

'I told you I was a photographer- didn't I?'

It was true, she had.

'I take the usual commercial stuff, portraits and the like for the day job, but every so often, I like to indulge my kinky side...'

'But who was...'

'A friend. She likes to explore her submissive side. She feels it gives her more control over her fears. Would you model for me?'

'What, bound?'

'Only if you want to be. There's no need to be shy.'

'Something more subtle, please. I don't really get on with the whole heavy bondage thing.'

She smiled. I was sure she knew that was untrue. I wasn't really lying, but I couldn't admit how much the thought fascinated me. It was curiosity, I suppose. I just wanted to know what it felt like. She just looked at me. She knew. I was squirming, all the time becoming more aroused.

'Shall we go through to my bedroom? I have everything that you will need there.'

It was true. There was a big chest in her wardrobe that was full of leather and rubber straps; collars, cuffs, things I didn't want to ask to closely about- The red gaga in the photograph, or at least one like it was there.

'I thought you didn't want to try anything heavy?' I had been holding the gag. The ball was even bigger than it had looked. It would be too terrible to wear.

'No,' I said, putting it down quickly, very quickly. Too quickly. Claire just smiled.

She pulled out a strip of black rubber. It was plain, and about two inches high, with buckles at either end.

'Hold your hair up, off your neck, and face the mirror.'

She placed it around my neck and held it there.

'Chin up.'

The black collar was dark against my throat. I've never been one to tan deeply, and my skin is very pale. It could have been a choker but for its thickness and weight.

'I think something higher, something a bit more... restrictive.'

She took away the collar and replaced it with one that seemed to be twice as high. It was of stiff leather, with a softer leather lining that fitted snugly under my chin.

'Much better,' she said, pulling it tight around my throat and buckling it at the back. There were three buckles from the feeling of it. I could hardly move my head. It felt heavy, the lining moulding to the shape of my neck.

'Stay there.' I still held my hair up. Claire reached around me and unbuttoned my blouse. I let go of my hair and she slid it from my shoulders. Then she loosened my jeans and worked them down my legs. I stepped clear of them, and worked my socks off with my feet. She unclipped my bra, and pulled it down and off. The effect was startling; the softness of my face and breats against the harsh, high collar.

'Traditionally, slaves are only ever collared naked.'

In the mirror, I could see the dampness in my knickers. I was sure she could. Claire's hands ran over my breasts, pulling and pinching at my nipples. I was beginning to melt inside. I was hopelessly aroused. She worked my knickers down; they fell to my ankles. I could hardly stand.

'Shall we try the cuffs to match the collar?'

'Um...' I wanted to scream out 'Yes', but I could just nod, or at least try to nod; the collar was so high. I was forced to look at my naked body in the mirror. Claire picked up some thick leather cuffs, buckling them tight round either wrist. Then a pair for my ankles.

'Kneel on the rug, please.'

It was sheepskin, the wool soft and warm on my knees.

'Stay there and do not move.'

I couldn't see what she was doing. from the sound of it, she was rummaging in the box. Then she tied something soft over my eyes and it was black. Then it was silent. Time seemed to telescope. I heard a sharp click, then another. It was the sound of a camera shutter.

'Hands behind your back'. I felt her hands on my wrists and hear some more clicks. I tested my arms. They were securely fastened. Then she secured my ankles.

'Lean forwards. I will not let you fall.'

She lowered me face first onto the rug. Then, i felt my ankles being pulled up, right up to my wrists. More soft clicks and I was totally immobile. I was breathing heavily now. The tension in my body and the feeling of the soft wool on the tender skin of my breasts and sex were unbearably erotic. I was coming, gently, but deeply and intensely.

I felt her foot, pushing me onto my side; more photographs. more rummaging. Then a whisper in my ear.

'Would you like to be gagged?'

She really didn't need to ask. I opened my mouth wide. I hadn't expected her to kiss me deeply then, and I felt another orgasm rising. The ball felt huge as she worked it between my teeth, taking the straps around my head and cinching them tight. Then more photographs.

I was rolled onto my back, and felt my knees being parted, then soft hair between my legs and hot, soft lips on my sex. I was glad of the gag as I screamed in ecstasy. The bonds just seemed to make the feeling of this last orgasm more intense, more complete. It felt as if I had blacked out. I can't remember Claire removing all my bonds, but that was how I found myself a few minutes later, curled up on the rug with my new mistress.

'You make such a beautiful little slave girl.' she said as she kissed me.

'The photographs!'. I almost shouted out as I remembered the whole purpose of the morning.

Claire smiled. She stood up and walked around the room, collecting pictures that lay on the floor.

'In the days before digital, I bought a polaroid back for my camera. I thought you might want to be able to keep some control over what pictures there are of you. There are twenty-five exposures on the film, and twenty-five photographs here. They are yours to keep, to give away or to destroy if you want.'

We looked back through them together. I couldn't recognise myself. I was captivated by a close-up of my face, gagged and blindfolded.

'I could see you were orgasming from half-way through the shoot. It shows so clearly in your face, even when you were gagged.'

I put the photographs down and rolled back into Claire's arms. She just felt so warm and close.

'Your slave would like to ask permission to kiss her mistress.'

'Granted.'