Kitty’s first, brief assessment in Spencer Street had been accurate—the woman was probably late forties or early fifties with a face that once had been striking and was still attractive, despite being heavily lined from weather exposure. As the pleasure subsided and the pain asserted itself Kitty gasped and choked back a sob. ‘Close your eyes, Kitty,’ he ordered, ‘the light in here is bright, and you will need to adjust your eyes slowly or they’ll hurt.’
He untied the blindfold, slipping the material down around her throat, turned her head to the right and retied it around the metal bar to keep her head still. ‘Back soon, whore. ‘Well done, Kitty,’ said the man as he patted her leg, ‘Your first orgasm as a slave. Two fingers were inside her now, agonisingly slow whilst the thumb continued to tease her clitoris. The door swished shut and Kitty heard the driver’s door open and then bang shut. To her amazement there was a swoosh as the door was no longer there and her head fell out into
