Miranda walked through the park in the early morning light, and pulled her coat tight around her. She’d been sent her early, to find a suitable place to present herself, and didn’t expect her Mistress for another hour or so. She found a small clearing, set apart from the main walkway, where they were not likely to be disturbed. Sliding her backpack to the ground, she knelt beside it, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

She unzipped the pack and revealed its contents, then rummaged around inside. Pulling out a small tape player, she set that aside and kept searching for the accoutrements that her Mistress had demanded. In less than a minute, Miranda was wearing wide leather bracers that had thick steel D-rings that extended past her hands, and leather ankle cuffs. She stood briefly, and closed her eyes, picturing herself in her mind’s eye.

When Mistress Cassandra arrived, what would she find: A loyal and devoted slave, kneeling in obedience to her Mistress. The slave would be wearing shorts in contrast to the chilly morning, with a white tee shirt and no bra. Leather would encase her wrists and ankles, and she would keep her eyes downcast until her Mistress dictated otherwise. Miranda felt a small tremor of anticipation pass through her. Today things would change, one way or another. This day’s events would affect their relationship forever, but Miranda was prepared to take that risk. She dropped to her knees, facing the way Mistress must come, and pressed the play button on the tape player.

The minutes dragged by, and she had nothing but the music to keep her company. It was a soothing set of songs, designed to bring peace to her soul in preparation for the excitement that was due to come. She let the notes and rhythm pass through her, and a calmness set in that brought a smile to her lips.

“Aren’t you a pretty one,” came a sudden voice, warm with emotion, “and are you prepared for what I have in store for you?” Miranda jumped at the sound, not having heard her Mistress approach. She swallowed nervously, and ran her tongue across lips that had suddenly grown dry.

“Yes, Mistress,” the young slave mumbled under her breath, her eyes still cast down to the ground.

“Excellent,” the woman above her said, “now look up to me, my slave.” Miranda looked up, and was stuck by the beauty of her Mistress. The blond woman stood garbed in black, including thigh-high leather boots. Long blond hair was pulled back into a severe French braid, not a stray hair, every aspect of herself in firm control. She looked so aloof, so imperious, that Miranda felt her breath catch in her throat. The leather-clad female walked once about her slave, languidly dragging her fingers across the kneeling girl’s lips and through her hair. At length, she turned back to the car with a flip of her golden braid.

“Come with me,” she commanded absently, beginning to move away. Miranda felt adrenalin rush through her veins as the moment was upon her. She rocked back and stood up, an odd sensation when in Cassandra’s presence already. One hand darted into her pocket as she stepped up behind the blond woman. Oddly, she noted that she was taller than her Mistress, a fact that she’d never even thought about before. Some sense, some sound must have alerted Cassandra to what was about to happen, because as she neared Miranda could see her body tense.

Before the blond woman could react, Miranda grabbed her from behind. Her left arm went around Cassandra’s chest, pinning her arms. Her right hand clamped a damp rag on the face of her Mistress, who attempted to twist out of her grasp furiously. They both lost balance, and fell together to the grass. Cassandra fought to free herself, but Miranda was larger and had leverage, so her efforts were futile. Miranda’s eyes burned from the fumes that rose from the rag, but she held it in place with the tenacity borne of desperation. The larger woman was rewarded as she felt the struggles lessen, and eventually cease. Still she held the cloth in place, until she felt the breathing of her captive even out into a slow, deep sleep.

Miranda struggled to her knees again, removing the cloth and almost fearing that Cassandra would wake up immediately. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but she’d done it. Miranda smiled to herself as she wondered if this was the “power exchange” Mistress had always talked about. Reaching for her backpack, she reached in and produced a coil of rope. Rolling the blond girl to her stomach, Miranda pulled her arms behind her back and crossed them at the wrist. Reconsidering that position, she instead coiled the rope about Mistress’s elbows and pulled them tight enough to almost touch. She cinched that off before reaching for another piece of rope.

Then next piece went about the blond woman’s wrists, and others encircled her ankles and knees. She was reaching for another length of rope when a soft moan came from the unconscious woman. Undaunted, Miranda tied it off at her ankles and ran the other end through the rope around her elbows, tying it tight enough to elicit a groan of discomfort from the captive on the ground.

“What,” Cassandra asked with a dangerous edge to her voice, “do you think you’re doing?” Miranda almost gave in there, almost untied her Mistress and begged for forgiveness. She steeled herself for what was going to happen, though, and reached into the bag. When the bound woman again opened her mouth to demand an answer, Miranda was quick to force a hard rubber bit gag between her teeth. There was a brief struggle as the captive tried to prevent her from buckling it in place, but it was futile. In mere seconds, Cassandra was muffled as well as bound.

“Well, Mistress,” Miranda said teasingly as the blonde glared up at her, “I’m going to show you the other side of the relationship. I’m going to show you what it’s like to be a slave for a day.” She waited for a retort from the woman on the ground, but nothing was forthcoming. Mistress was going to try to control even her captivity, it seemed. So be it, Miranda had made plans for that eventuality as well...