Or more precisely, knowing that I was beyond the limits of a mere slave. I'd become something else and that was the source of my pride as much as anyt...ing else, that sense of worth I felt at being owned precisely because I was loved. It was the only way the man could have me and elevated me above everyone else. A romantic notion, certainly, the idea that I'd sacrificed my freedom for love, but I felt the truth of it and this was the only world I could imagine where such a thing might be. How. Iris and I were reclining in sun chairs, secluded by shrubs and flowers. Here within the grounds of Carlton Manor life felt far from the madness of war. After my reunion with Guy earlier, the lads had both jaunted off to join a cricket match down in the village. Now we could chat about Guy’s expectations of working at the manor. I found Iris an attractive woman with fair bubbly hair and hazel eyes that sparkled while she spoke. Her voice had unmistakable breeding and the woollen jumper she wore. Inevitably, as it seemed at that age, our conversation turned to the subject of girlfriends. I laughed through the usual evasive answers that I gave and Lynette seemed to enjoy playfully probing at me and the slight discomfort I expressed on the subject. I’d had a few girlfriends at that stage in life, one or two had even been serious, but I was single at the time. When Lynette asked what I liked in a girl and I stumbled through a few drab answers I noticed that she’d drifted off and was. Well I guess the spaces between masturbation sessions got longer and longer and did not feature in my needs so much. Now getting back to those signs I was telling you about. Back in the late eighties power dressing was the norm for women in business and at that time I wore a lot of leather. Leather skirts and satin blouses with a tailored jacket were my normal attire with sometimes a nice pair of boots. My husband at the time loved me in these outfits, and so some more risqué, leather outfits.