Consequences Ch 01

When I awoke, the first thing I became aware of was that my Mum, Caroline, was sat in the chair at the foot of my bed, watching me. She appeared very relaxed with her hands folded in her lap and a sympathetic smile on her face.

"Good morning, Isabelle," she greeted me softly.

I could tell from the brightness of the room even with the curtains still drawn it was a bit later in the morning than I would normally get up.

"Good morning, Mum," I replied drowsily.

"No," she corrected me, still in her soft maternal tone, "today is going to be one of those days when you address me as Ma'am."

I immediately felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Why were you home after curfew last night?" Mum asked.

I began to answer but Caroline stopped me by holding up her hand. "At least sit up to speak to me," she instructed.

I sat up as instructed. I knew better than to try to hold the duvet in place to cover my top half so my bare shoulders and breasts were fully exposed to her.

Mum expressed mock surprise. "No night shirt, Isabelle?" she asked.

"No, Ma'am," I replied.

"Are you wearing anything under those covers?" she asked.

"My underwear from yesterday, Ma'am," I replied.

Mum tutted. "So you came in, late, threw your clothes on the floor, and just went to bed in your knickers?"

"Yes Ma'am," I confirmed.

"No wash, nothing?" she pressed.

"No, Ma'am," I admitted again.

"And why were you late in the first place?"

"My train was cancelled, Ma'am," I replied.

This was the truth and I knew Caroline would already have checked such details. I had done everything I could the night before to get home as quickly as possible. I had gone to my friend Emily's house straight from college. We had done a little bit of the project we were working on together but had then had a bit of a girls' night with some take out and a movie. She had driven me to the train station in plenty of time for my train which would have got me to a station as close as possible to my home, which was a little remote to say the least. From there I had already arranged an Uber to pick me up. But the notification of the cancellation of the train had not been made until Emily had left, leaving me stranded. It being a Friday night I had had difficulty ordering any other sort of taxi and so I had eventually caught a bus to get me partway home and then I had met a taxi I had finally managed to book about half way which had finally got me home around half past eleven - an hour and a half past my curfew.

I explained this to Mum, pointing out I had made great efforts to get home as soon as possible.

Mum nodded understandingly. "But why didn't you call either me or your father to let us know where you were?"

"I knew neither of you was in, Ma'am," I answered.

Mum smiled knowingly. "Is that an acceptable excuse?" she asked.

"No, Ma'am," I answered, lowering my head as I did so.

"You know we check the house cameras regularly, you know we get notifications when the door is opened, how do you think we felt when we knew you weren't home by ten and we didn't know where you were?" Caroline was still speaking softly but the disappointment and reproach in her tone were obvious.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," I apologised. I was genuinely starting to feel bad.

"You're eighteen now," Mum pointed out. "You shouldn't need reminding of these basic expectations anymore."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," I said again. I knew I had disappointed her and I hated doing that. I was upset with myself for not thinking to call and let either her or Dad know where I was.

"And now you've had a sleep in," Mum continued, "so today's plans have had to be re-arranged. Your father has kindly taken Jesse to her swimming gala instead of me so that I can spend the day with you."

Jesse was my older sister. I rather suspected Dad had not objected too much to taking her to an all female swimming competition, though of course I didn't say that to Mum.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am." It was the safest thing to say but I meant it.

"We," Mum announced in a more dynamic tone, "are going shopping together. Whilst you get showered, I'll lay an outfit on your bed and I want you downstairs and ready in thirty minutes."

"Yes, Ma'am," I replied.

When I didn't move, Mum pointed to the door to my en-suite bathroom and firmly issued the instruction, "Now, young lady."

There was no avoiding it. I slunk out of bed and walked across the room to my bathroom, certain Mum was watching me with utter disapproval due to the small thong which was the only item of clothing I was still wearing. No doubt there would be questions later about why I had chosen that style of underwear for college.

I knew Caroline would not be kidding about the time limit she has set so I got ready fast. I showered quickly, giving my long blonde hair which reached halfway down my back only the briefest of washes so that it would dry reasonably quickly. I towelled myself dry and dropped the towel into the washing basket. Naked, I quickly went back into my bedroom and picked up yesterday's clothes off the floor where I had dumped them and stuffed those into the washing basket as well, As it was the weekend, the two maids we employed were off duty so the laundry would get sorted on Monday. Thinking of that made me feel worse. I knew how lucky i was to have such a privileged upbringing and the expectations put on me were hardly unreasonable. I had to concede it was right of Mum and Dad to discipline me when I fell short of their expectations but even so, I had the feeling today would be particularly difficult.

As she had promised, Mum had placed an outfit for me on my bed. Being told what to wear, having that choice taken away from me, was a very common strategy both my parents used when I was in need of correction. It reminded me that if I didn't make the correct decisions, then decisions would be made for me. As Mum had stated we were going shopping I knew she would not have chosen anything obviously humiliating, but looking at what she had laid out for me made me realise that she did really want to put me in my place.

I stepped into the black string underwear first, pulling it up my long legs into position where I barely felt it as it was so tiny. The skimpiness of the underwear was explained by the next garment I put on - a pair of skin tight, black, wet-look leggings. When I had squeezed into them and managed to pull them up I realised they had shape-wear features and had the effect of lifting my buttocks, making them far more prominent than normal. I was quite slim and toned and when I went to the gym (or more often used the one at home) I didn't try to build my glutes which seemed to be the trend amongst my friends, but these leggings really made me feel as though my bottom was very much on show. I put the bra on next. It was a two third cup black uplift bra and of course Mum knew my size to be 30C. It emphasised my breasts like the leggings did my bottom and as I pulled on the fitted plain white short sleeved T shirt, I knew the outline of my bust would be very noticeable under it. The T shirt was cropped as well, baring my toned midriff and the elasticated waist band added to the tightness of the garment across my breasts. Finished off with white ankle socks and a pair of white platform trainers to emphasise my legs and bottom further, I knew Mum was making sure I was going to be as on display as possible without any of the outfit being outlandish or unacceptable in public.

I made my way downstairs where Mum was waiting for me in the open plan kitchen and dining area. She was sat at the dining table and indicated I should stand before her so that she could inspect me in the outfit she had chosen. She indicated with her finger I should turn around and I did so that she could inspect me from the back as well. I was used to this sort of routine when I was in trouble. As I was still facing away from her I heard her approach me from behind and she gathered my hair in a pony tail which she started high up the back of my head and applied a hair tie to keep it there. I had expected her to put it into pigtails - a favourite style Mum had when she wanted to remind me of childish behaviour - so I was secretly relieved.

Mum told me to face her again. "You look very smart," she complimented me.

"Thank you, Ma'am," I replied, "so do you."

Mum was dressed quite casually in tight blue jeans and a v neck black waist length top with the straps fastening around her neck. It must have been underwired as it emphasised her considerable bust quite obviously. Although my breasts were more than noticeable on my slim frame, I had not quite inherited Mum's considerable chest. That honour had fallen to Jesse who often reminded me of the fact, especially when we went clothes shopping or for a night out together. However, I was roughly the same height as Mum now at around 5-8, where as Jesse was a couple of inches shorter than us both. Mum was 42 but looked younger. Like me she was blonde but her hair fell to only her shoulders. She was fit and active and she spent a lot of time practising yoga and pilates. She was also a keen horse rider, something I had never been able to get into despite being encouraged when I was younger. People always said it was very obvious we were mother and daughter, something said less often about Jesse, mainly due to her having jet black hair from Dad's side.

"And are you up to date with your beauty regime, Isabelle?" Mum asked.

We both knew that meant was I properly waxed. "Yes, Ma'am," I replied, but Mum would always want more details with regard to this matter. "Jesse and I both went on Wednesday."

"Excellent," Mum replied.

She knew I found discussing such personal things embarrassing, even now when it had been an established routine for some time. We both also knew that the Boutique we went to would have reported to her that Jesse and I had attended an appointment anyway. Details would have been given to Mum about how we had both behaved throughout the entire appointment. Had we stripped when told and waited patiently? Had we both endured the waxing without complaint? Had we stood to attention properly for the inspection afterwards? All these things Mum would already know but she liked to subtly remind me of her ability to have insight into even very private experiences of mine.

Mum slipped a light jacket on over her top. Through the French doors leading out onto the patio it looked like a warm, sunny day, probably one of the last in year as it was the middle of September. The clock on the wall showed it was a little after half past nine and I realised I really had slept in after my late night yesterday.

Sure enough, Mum was keen to get going. She let me have a small glass of water to drink and then indicated it was time to head to the car.

"What are we going shopping for, Ma'am?" I asked, as she led me to the door.

Caroline didn't stop and didn't even turn to look at me. "I am going to buy you a new bath brush," she answered casually.

The significance of the statement was apparent to me immediately and I felt tears forming in the corner of my eyes, which I quickly wiped away with my finger. I had known I was in trouble from the moment Mum had instructed me to address her as Ma'am for the day, but now I realised I had, in her eyes, committed a really serious offence. Mum had a way of communicating things indirectly, but making her meaning very explicit. I still remembered the holiday we had gone on with other family and family friends where she had instructed both me and Jesse in advance to pack, for pool and beach wear, bikini bottoms only. That had been three weeks before the holiday was due to start, giving us both plenty of time to reflect on what that particular holiday was going to involve.

"I see, Ma'am," I answered in reply to the bath brush comment, trying to keep the distress out of my voice and failing.

Mum's car - a smart, black hatchback - was on the drive. It was relatively new but by no means the most expensive model on the market. Mum and Dad were wealthy but not ostentatious and Jesse and I had been brought up to not waste money on unnecessary trivialities. I had once, when I was younger, suggested Mum and Dad should get matching personalised number plates. This had resulted in me being lectured at length by Dad on the value of money and why it should never be used to simply show off. I had had to write an essay on the subject the same day which he had then assessed and, due to it containing several spelling and punctuation errors, I had been made to change into my exercise gear of shorts and sports bra and run five times around the punishment field despite the fact it had been pouring down. I hadn't mentioned the idea of personalised number plates again.

Mum unlocked the car and I went to get into the front passenger side.

"In the back please, Isabelle," Mum instructed.

"Of course, Ma'am," I replied. I knew I would not be allowed the "grown up's" seat when I was under discipline and was annoyed with myself for forgetting.

I sat in the back seat on the passenger's side and remembered to sit with my thighs, knees, ankles and feet together and my hands on my knees. I lifted my arms to allow Mum to fasten my seat belt for me - currently I knew I was not trusted with any responsibility - then returned my hands to my knees. Without being told, I knew I had to sit up straight and sit still in position for the duration of the journey. I wondered where we were heading. For something like a bath brush I suspected we would need some sort of home ware shop or department at least which, thankfully, ruled out Cosgrove's - a specialist store about half an hour away which sold country wear, equestrian supplies and other niche lines, mostly related to rural living. It also supplied, in a private area which required an appointment to access, specific things related to the disciplinary aspects of the lifestyle I had been brought up with. But a bath brush was far too common an item for Cosgrove's. So my guess was we were going to The Oaks, a generally pleasant retail park which boasted a range of independent shops and boutiques and which had the advantage of being pedestrianised with parking nearby, rather than the shops being arranged around a huge central car park. It was about an hour away but I was used to long journeys due to the nature of where we lived.

As Mum started the car and set off down our extensive drive, I settled in for the ride, knowing Mum would be regularly checking my posture in the rear view mirror. Traffic was light which was usual on the lanes and roads that took us most of the way and even near the retail park traffic was not busy meaning we arrived at The Oaks in good time. Mum parked with ease and got out of the car before coming to open my door to let me out. She unfastened my seat belt for me and gave me permission to exit the car. I was a little stiff after sitting still for so long and I stretched my limbs gratefully as I stood. The car park was a little more than half full but it was still quite early in the day and by afternoon The Oaks would be heaving.

Mum led the way from the car park to the main retail area. The shops were arranged to form a rough circle around the outside of the pedestrianised area and in the centre of this circle was a coffee shop with outdoor seating. It was obvious to me that Mum's intention was to head there first.

Everything Mum did was deliberate and had a specific purpose and I could see she already had a clear plan in mind. She selected a table in a prominent position a little to the side of the entrance to the coffee shop. Anyone walking into or out of it would pass by the table she had chosen but it was also exposed to people walking past as they moved around the shops.

"Stand here, Isabelle," Mum instructed, indicating the side of the table that was nearest to the coffee shop entrance.

I stood where Caroline asked, facing towards the table.

"No, not like that," Mum said irritably.

She stood behind me and put her hands lightly on my hips before applying a gentle pressure to rotate me so that my back was now to the door to the coffee shop. Then she pulled me slightly until I had taken a couple of steps backwards and was now standing alongside the chair she was obviously going to sit at, which would have her back towards the shop itself as well. Some of the tables were already occupied and I was acutely aware of the attention we were getting as Mum manoeuvred me into position. I had already felt self conscious as I had walked into The Oaks in the figure emphasising outfit Mum had chosen, but now I felt myself blushing with embarrassment as Mum put me on display in a none too subtle way.

She wasn't finished yet either. She walked around to the front of me to inspect my posture.

"Feet together," she instructed, "stand up straight, shoulders back."

I complied, well aware that a couple a few tables away were making no attempt to hide the fact they were watching us - me in particular - with keen interest.

"In fact," Caroline decided, "fold your arms behind your back, holding your elbows."

I could barely believe what I had heard. Standing next to her as she had coffee would have been awkward enough, but the instruction she had given would put me in an obviously submissive pose. Folding my arms behind my back so that I could hold each elbow with the opposite hand was also the most demanding and uncomfortable condition Caroline could have imposed, and we both knew full well it would result in my chest being pushed up and out. I looked at her pleadingly, desperate for her to show leniency, but her expression was unwavering.

"Yes, Ma'am," I acknowledged reluctantly and slowly assumed the position she had instructed, utterly aware of how on display I now was.

Mum looked me up and down for a few moments. "Good girl," she complimented, "now don't move."

She left me there as she went inside to order. She couldn't have been gone more than a few minutes before she returned and sat down on the chair beside me but it had felt as though I had been left on my own for an age. The couple a few tables away were quite obviously openly discussing my predicament, though I couldn't hear exactly what they were saying. Several people had walked right past me to get into the coffee shop themselves and couldn't help but stare and I had noticed attention from a number of passers by as well. At this time on a Saturday there were few single males around, but those out shopping with their wife or girlfriend generally cast a glance in my direction. What surprised me more was the attention I got from women who were far more obvious in their studying of me than the males who tried to pretend they weren't looking. I realised I had never been so humiliated before. Even being made to go topless on holidays was easier than this as that had at least been in context. Standing here, in a pose which looked utterly out of place, I was getting more attention than being bare breasted whilst at the pool or beach.

After a short while a waiter brought Mum's coffee. He was a young, attractive man, probably early twenties. I suspected he might be a University student working in the last few weeks of the long holidays before his course started again. He was polite and served Mum her coffee but for most of the interaction he was quite obviously staring at me and his gaze was fixated mostly on my very prominent bust. Despite the attention, I maintained my pose without moving, head up, eyes forward as I knew Mum expected.

"It was just one coffee, Madam?" he asked Mum.

"Yes, that's correct," Mum replied, smiling at him.

He clearly wanted to say something, maybe to ask why I was stood next to Mum in the position I was. He had no reason to stay having brought Mum her coffee but he was clearly in two minds as to what to do.

Mum preempted him in the end. "She's fine," Mum said as the waiter looked nervously in my direction. "But her behaviour has not been perfect recently so she is being reminded of my expectations."

"I see Madam," the waiter answered, seemingly more nervous now the situation was being directly addressed. "Well, enjoy your coffee."

"Thank you," Mum replied as the waiter left.

My shoulders and upper arms were already starting to ache from the position I was maintaining, but of course Mum was taking her time with her coffee. She smiled at people as they walked past me, clearly relishing my embarrassment and discomfort at being disciplined publicly, but subtly. Mum had almost finished her coffee when she was approached directly by a woman I had noticed looking at me intently for some time.

"May I join you?" the woman asked and I detected an obvious American accent, probably Californian judging from films I had seen.

"Of course," Mum said cheerfully, looking up at the woman.

As the woman took a seat opposite Mum I did my best to study her, albeit briefly. She was dressed quite formally in a dark blue trouser suit and black low heeled shoes. She was around average height, dark haired with a slim figure. She was probably early to mid thirties and attractive but in an understated, casual way as if she didn't want to draw attention to herself.

"My name is Cassandra Stevens," the woman introduced herself.

Mum introduced herself in return.

Whilst the reason for Cassandra to join Mum was pretty obvious, Cassandra was incredibly direct with her conversation. I thought I even noticed, from the corner of my eye, Mum show a little surprise at how quickly Cassandra broached the topic.

"Your submissive seems very obedient," Cassandra commented. "Is she your daughter?"

"Yes," Mum answered, " she is my youngest of two girls."

Cassandra's eyes widened at the mention of my having a sister. "And is her sister trained as well?"

"She is," Mum replied, "and more appreciative of it than Isabelle here."

That was true - Jesse would regularly report to Mum and ask for discipline, even when she had not done anything wrong. Barely a week went by without her reporting to Mum's home office in her punishment uniform.

Cassandra turned her attention directly to me, studying my appearance and position.

"She is very obedient," Cassandra commented. "Has she done any modelling?"

"Only on a casual basis," Mum answered.

I felt myself blush at the memories of modelling underwear and swimwear for a boutique owned by a friend of Mum's when I was younger. But that was not as embarrassing as when my gymnastics team had needed to raise money to attend a competition in Milan, I had been photographed for the calendar that had been produced to raise money. My photo had been used for the month of February so I had been photographed wearing only my leotard, in an enhanced bridge pose with my hands and feet as close together as possible so that my body formed a heart like shape. I had been photographed from several angles in that position and at the time it hadn't occurred to me, or most of the other girls who took part, how exploitative the calendar was. Mum had, of course, insisted both me and Jesse took part. The calendar had been produced to be a perpetual calendar with dates but no days and so we all knew there were lots of copies still in use, even now a few years after it was produced. My own father still had a copy displayed prominently on his office wall.

Cassandra nodded her understanding. "And has she done any professional submissive work?"

I couldn't see Mum's reaction to that question but she answered without any hesitation, which alarmed me a lot.

"Not yet," was Mum's reply.

Not yet. Two words. Two short words. But they filled my mind and as they consumed my thoughts, realisation crept over me like seeing the first light of day. The discipline department at Cosgrove's, the other people from my peer group that I knew were also subject to discipline and now Cassandra's frank openness - was there more to my upbringing than I realised? I had to concentrate fully to not break position.

"She has obviously had a lot of obedience training," Cassandra commented, studying me again. "May I ask how you reinforce expectations?"

"Corporal punishment mainly," Mum answered openly.

"Spanking?" Cassandra pressed.

"Strap and paddle mostly," Mum explained. "Sometimes the cane if necessary."

I was burning with humiliation as Mum divulged the details of our family life.

"Resilient?" Cassandra queried.

"Approaching a seven," Mum replied cryptically.

But Cassandra nodded knowingly, obviously aware of what Mum was referring to.

"Any other training?"

"Some," Mum admitted. "Lots of clothing discipline as you can tell, exercise control, rationed, supervised masturbation, some restraint and sensory deprivation."

Cassandra was nodding along as Mum recounted this list, seemingly impressed. "is she still a virgin?"

"She is," Mum answered with pride, "but she knows how to use her hands and mouth."

This was mortifying. Mum was discussing my personal experiences like I wasn't even there.

"Any anal training?" Was the next question Cassandra asked.

"Very little," Mum admitted. "Isabelle finds even quite small plugs really difficult to take."

"Understandable," Cassandra commented. After a brief pause she continued, "When you do decide it is time for her to start earning give me a call."

Cassandra took a business card from the small clutch bag she carried and passed it to Mum. I couldn't see any of the details but Cassandra gave Mum a brief explanation.

"I run an agency catering for very specialised needs," Cassandra clarified. "If she passes the assessment weekend, Isabelle would be perfect. As her Handler, we would pay you for contracts she completes and, believe me, it pays well. I can only guess her sister would be suitable too."

"I'll have to speak to her father," Mum explained, "but it is about time both of them gained a bit more life experience really."

"Their father is involved as well?" Cassandra asked with a hint of surprise.

"Oh yes," Mum confirmed, "mostly in a passive role these days but he has full knowledge."

"Well we do have a number of couples who wish to adopt a daughter on a temporary basis, shall we say," Cassandra disclosed, "so experience of full parental discipline is welcomed."

"Yes both Isabelle and Jesse have that," Mum confirmed.

"Excellent," Cassandra said. "Well I won't take up any more of your day, but I do hope to hear from you soon."

"I am sure you will," Mum said casually as Cassandra got up from her seat.

Cassandra made a point of looking me up and down very deliberately as she stood before me.

"Yes," she said thoughtfully, "you would be a very welcome addition."

She walked away and I was left in little doubt that I would see her again soon - Mum's enthusiasm for her suggestion had been obvious to me.