David Alexander stood in the orange glow of the street light and stared at the door entry panel to the property before him. It was a three-storey Regency house bounded by metal railings. The solid front door of the house was framed by two pillars and approached by wide stone steps. This elegant dwelling was in a quiet and graceful part of Brighton, the vibrant seaside city on the south coast of England that had been David’s home for most of his 35 years. It was a warm night and the air was mild, just a slight salty breeze that had blown in off the Channel.

David felt a knot in his stomach and an ache in his groin and a confusion of emotions in his mind. What on earth was he doing here at Isabella Stern’s address at this time of night? What was he doing here at all for that matter? He barely knew the woman, for God’s sake, although he knew enough to be aware that she was married. That in itself ought to have deterred him from coming here but it hadn’t. He knew that she was heavily into kinky sex too. That should have deterred him as well, shouldn’t it? Shouldn’t it?

David felt dog tired all of a sudden, drained of all strength, and sick of himself for being so weak-willed as to have come here in the first place. He felt frightened too, couldn’t stop himself from trembling. But it wasn’t too late. All he needed to do was to go back to his car and drive home, nothing could be simpler. He was sorely tempted to do that too, went so far as to feel in his jacket pocket for his car keys. But he didn’t pull them out. Instead his fingers came out of his pocket as if of their own accord and punched at the entry panel. And that was when the die was cast; that was when David’s fate was irreversibly sealed.

What if? he used to say to himself afterwards. What if he had known then by means of some strange quirk of chronology what was going to happen to him? What would he have done? Turned around and got in the car and gone home again? Because if ever there had been a point at which he could have changed things it had been when he’d been gazing at that entrance panel, trying to decide whether to go home or to press to request entry. But “What ifs” didn’t help at all, they were irrelevant. The fact is that he did what he did and from that point on he was lost.

The next few moments passed as if in a dream and suddenly David found himself in a big, high-ceilinged living room filled with pristine antiques, rare china and fine oil paintings. The room was very imposing but then so too was the imperious raven haired beauty in high stiletto-heeled boots and a skin-tight cat suit who had let David into the property and before whom he was now standing.

That exquisite black leather outfit accentuated Isabella Stern’s shapely form exceptionally well, moulding itself beautifully to her perfect curves. Indeed everything about Isabella was perfectly formed. She was truly stunning to behold and conveyed such a powerful image of dark desirability and dominance that it made David’s blood race through his veins. Her lustrous shoulder length hair was jet-black. Her large shining eyes had a strikingly Asiatic cast and, just as strikingly, were as black as coal. She had luminescent white skin by contrast, high cheekbones and a wide, sensuous mouth. Her sleek, exquisitely shaped body moved with a feline insolence, cat-like indeed in the tight leather cat suit that clung to it like a second skin.

She had an extraordinary presence too, a regal bearing, a poise and elegance that immediately commanded respect. The expression she was wearing on her face right then was cold and cruel, though. In fact she looked incredibly cruel. In truth, Isabella looked at that instant essentially what she was: a predatory bitch-goddess, an extraordinarily sadistic femme fatale. David couldn’t possibly have known the amazing depths of Isabella’s sadism and depravity, not then. But he did know that she scared him to death … and excited him immensely. A sudden shiver of fear ran through him and connected to his cock, giving him an erection that pressed with painful urgency against the crotch of his black jeans.

Isabella hadn’t said anything when she’d let David in, had just led him through to her luxurious living room. She remained silent now. As for David, he couldn’t say anything, couldn’t stop shaking either. He knew instinctively and without doubt that what was about to happen to him was going to change his life forever, that he was going to emerge from this encounter a different man.

Isabella stared at David, her heavy-lidded eyes hypnotic, her lips so sensuous that he yearned to kiss them but, of course, he didn’t dare do any such thing. His heart was beating fast and he felt barely able to breathe. The silence in the room became deafening but still she didn’t say a word, nor did he.

Then Isabella did finally speak. ‘Strip naked for me,’ she commanded, staring into his blue eyes. David immediately obeyed, taking off all his clothing in double-quick time. He tried to control his shaking, but couldn’t. He tried to control his sexual excitement too, but couldn’t do that either. His cock was rigidly erect now and pulsing constantly. Isabella gave him a slow up-and-down look, her sinful black eyes moving hotly over his body as he waited, waited for her first touch. But she was in no hurry. Her eyes lingered on his skin, disturbing and exciting him more and more. She strode round him in a slow circle, seeming to examine every detail of his fine, toned body, until she’d completed her circle and was standing in front of him again.

Still Isabella didn’t touch David, though, simply kept looking at him. But what a look! Her shining eyes were as intense as search lights, and David was now irrevocably caught in their beam as she gazed directly into his eyes. Nobody had ever looked at him like that before. He could feel Isabella’s eyes boring into him, tormenting him with desire. His body cried out for her touch, couldn’t stop shaking. But still she kept staring and staring into his eyes. And that piercing, hypnotic stare had the strangest effect on David. It made him feel as if he was starting to be transformed right there and then into another person, not himself.