Back on track again. Here is more cheerful part of this story of surrender.
'We are going home to your flat,' he declared and I had to suppress my annoyance at having me get all the way to him only to go back.
As we went we walked arm in arm and I felt happy, being his girlfriend, his partner. I wasn't sure if I was but I let myself be that for the time being and I enjoyed it.
He had never visited my tiny flat and was amazed at how sparsely it was furnished. I had a kitchen table, a bed, two armchairs and a small side board. It was nothing fancy, simple design but, as I thought it, elegant.
He sat himself down in one of the dark green armchairs and accepted a glass of wine. Then he demanded I should show him my wardrobe. When I looked at him in bewilderment he explained that I should put on my clothes and show him.
I had to laugh, This was silly. I had loads of clothes but they were mostly practical things, that was good for my college but not for anything else.
He smiled but was persistent. He said we had plenty of time. So I started with my jackets. He looked at me with a straight face and made some noises when I wore something I think he at least found stylish enough.
After a while he told me that he didn't want me to disappear into the bedroom to change but I should bring the clothes to the living room and show him.
'Begin with trousers,' he said and laughed and I went into my bedroom and returned with a pile. I tried them on one by one and he shook his head. He didn't like them. The only pair he approved of was a pair of stretch jeans that clung to my legs and were quite low cut. Those were a pair Sarah, my friend, had given me because they didn't fit her but I had never used them.
Most of my skirts were too long but he liked some of the shorter ones. I had a wide, red skirt that fell to my knees that he liked, despite its length.
Tops were harder, some of my shirts were good, he told me and demanded I should show him what it looked like if I tied a knot in the front and wore the tight jeans. He liked that he could see my belly then.
Some of my other tops were acceptable, especially the ones I didn't use because they were too tight. He liked that.
He seemed to like my taste in dresses and found most of them good looking but especially the green one I had worn when I asked him to take me back. It wasn't elegant, he said but it made me look exposed.
I took off and put on my clothes in front of him and although I was embarrassed I stopped thinking about it after a while. Until it came to underwear. He was very keen on underwear.
'Throw them away,' he said about my bras, 'why would you want to wear a bra?'
'My nipples are visible if I don't wear a bra,' I said, grumpily.
'I like nipples.'
I knew my breasts were small enough to manage without a bra but it was, still, a little hurtful to be told like that.
He was quite enthusiastic when it came to knickers. He didn't demand that I tried them all on but some he wanted me to show him. Most of my knickers were cotton and quite childish, with hearts and cats on and that sort of thing but I had some that were black and smallish that he liked.
He accepted that my one piece swimsuit was elegant but he liked my bikinis better. Still he found most of them too prudish. He liked a red one I had that had low rise tie side briefs and a triangular halter neck bra, a classic but small bikini. This one I considered to be too daring to really wear at any public beach. He laughed when I told him.
When I thought I was done and most of my clothes lay in heaps and bundles on armchair and floor in my living room he rose and went to my bedroom. He wanted to check my wardrobe.
'I like those,' he said when he returned holding some of my scarves.
'Try this on,' he said and held out a very flimsy, red one with golden threads. It was made of some very thin fabric and had golden disks sewn to the ends, that rustled when you shook it. I had bought that on a trip to Cairo and I had thought it pretty but never used it.
I took the scarf and put it on.
'No, not around your neck, around your hips.'
I looked at him and tied it around my hips.
'You should learn to belly dance,' he said, that scarf gives me ideas.
I smiled at him. He was like a child, a child with some naughty ideas.
'But you can't be wearing those jeans. Take them off!'
I knew better than to protest so I unbuttoned my jeans and took them off.
'Still too much clothes, take the top off, too.'
I blushed as I stripped off my top. I felt suddenly naked as I stood before him dressed only in knickers and the scarf around my hips.
'The scarf won't cover me.'
I took my knickers off and was now only wearing the scarf.
'Lower, let it hang on your hips, even below the hip bones, I want to see your belly.'
I retied the scarf and made sure it was low on my hips.
'Now stand there, weight on one leg, push your hip out, hand at your hip, let the other hang, push your bosom out, look at me, over the shoulder, straighten your back.'
I felt like I was in a photo shoot and he was instructing me. I tried to follow his orders.
'There you go, very nice. You would make a lovely barbarian princess.'
'A princess with very little clothes on.'
'Or a dancer or a harem slave or both at the same time. My imagination flies.'
'Are you a barbarian king and I would sit at your feet?'
'That is not a bad idea. And maybe I should chain you. I think you would look lovely in chains, imagine the hard steel against that soft skin.'
'I feel silly.'
'Don't be, you look lovely. You should learn to dance. You are really sexy like that, exotic and sexy. I like that. Maybe I should invite all my friends to dinner and have you wait at the table, dressed like that.'
'Don't you dare.'
'Don't tempt me, you don't know what I dare.'
I was silent. I knew he spoke the truth, in a flash I imagined him really doing that. I wondered if my willingness to do anything for him reached that far.
'We have to go shopping.'
'Too little rubber pants in my wardrobe?'
'What do you mean by that,' he snapped and I felt a cold hand grip my heart.
'Nothing,' I said, my voice weak, 'I just thought, perhaps...'
'What did you think?'
'I talked to my friend, Sarah, and she thought that perhaps...perhaps you were into that sort of thing.'
'Like fetish wear, like rubber and leather, like I was part of some kinky scene, like I went to some fetish club?'
'I don't know, maybe, I did.'
'You think this is a game?'
'No, I didn't mean it like that.'
'How did you mean it?'
'I don't know, sorry, forgive me.'
'Very well, it is a mistake, easily done. I can tell you, I don't fancy rubber and I don't fancy leather and I am not part of a scene. I am me and I want a woman by my feet and you are that woman. There is nothing more to it than that.'
'I understand,' I said, 'I am sorry.'