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  After almost an hour, Clara returns. Jonathan is standing in the living room with a big duffel bag next to him.
  "So, have you hidden it well?" he asks.
  Clara nods.
  "I don't think you'll find it."
  Jonathan suddenly glares at her.
  "You didn't call me 'Master'," he says threateningly.
  Clara realize her mistake and bows her head.
  "I am really sorry, Master. Forgive me. It's only our first day, so please be lenient with me, Master."
  Although she said that, she can't believe she had made a mistake after only a few seconds.
  "What a start…" she thinks to herself.
  "Very well," Jonathan says. "Then let's get this started for real. Come to my side and kneel, my pet."
  Clara obeys almost immediately, rushing to him and kneeling down by his side, looking down on the floor, not daring to look him in the eyes.
  "Fold your arms," he orders. Puzzled, she does what she is told. Big is her surprise when something rubbery is pulled over her left arm. She peeks at it. It almost looks like an arm binder. Jonathan have had her wear one before. But these are much smaller. Just enough to go from her elbows to her shoulders.
  "J-John, what is this?" she asks nervously.
  He glares at her again.
  "Worse than not calling me 'Master', you called me by my shortened name. That's not respectful at all."
  His voice sounds… cold. Angry. It is so unlike him. He's never been like that to her before.
  "I… I'm sorry, Master. I keep forgetting. Forgmmmph!"
  Her stuttering speech is cut off by a rubber ball being jammed behind her teeth forcibly with no warning.
  "MMMMPH!" she cries out as he tightly buckles it in place.
  "Quiet, slave," he snarls at her. "Twice have you forgotten my proper title. If you won't speak with respect, you won't get to speak at all."
  Unfortunately for Clara, she doesn't like gags. She had found that out early in their sessions. Tape, cloth, leather or rubber, she didn't like any of it. She found it unpleasant, so Jonathan only ever used one for punishment. Like now.
  "Clara, you idiot," she thinks to herself as she feels her mouth already feel sore from the gag. "You've forgotten the same thing twice in less than 10 minutes. You deserve this…"
  As she is busy convincing herself that she deserves being gagged, she is pushed over by her master so she leans on the elbows of her folded arms. One by one, he folds her legs and pulls similar leather binders over them, strapping them in place until she is inescapably bound and forced to stand on her elbows and knees.
  As Jonathan finished pulling the straps of all the binders tight, she peeks up at him with pleading eyes. Her mouth feels like it will never be able to close again, and it hurts.
  "You better learn to enjoy gags, because you will be wearing them a lot," he says, not a hint of mercy in his voice.
  She lowers her head submissively, not noticing the black collar he suddenly buckles around her neck until it is too late. With the D-ring in front dangling with a nametag bearing her name on, she looks up at him again.
  "Mmm?"
  "You're my pet, so you will wear a pet's collar."
  She can't believe she blushes at that comment. She doesn't know if she is turned on, frightened or humiliated, but it is doing something to her.
  "Now, we're going for a walk, pet."
  "Mmph?" is all that comes from Clara's mouth. In her head, she was thinking "A walk? Like this? How on earth is that going to work out?"
  Unlucky for her, Jonathan is not a mind reader, and as such doesn't hear her concerns. But he knows it. He can see it in her eyes and face. And he smirks.
  "Try walking a few steps like that," he says.
  Reluctantly, Clara starts walking on her wobbling hands and knees, almost falling over on the first few steps. To her surprise, it doesn't feel too bad. There seems to be some kind of padding right at her elbows and knees that cushions every step to the point where it doesn't hurt at all. She looks up at her master, admiration and love in her eyes.
  "So you do care about me…" she tries saying, although the gag prevents any understandable speech.
  But it is now that she remembers something else. That everyone will see her! And once again, panic returns to her eyes.
  Like a psychic, John knows what she's thinking about.
  "I do not see any reason to hide our identities. After all, you are my full-time slave, and I am your full-time master."
  Clara knows this to be true, but the thought is still frightening.
  "Mmmph…" she whimpers.
  John ignores her and goes back to the duffel bag full of bondage gear he's got nearby, the one where he's gotten everything from so far. Clara looks as a dog's leash is pulled out. She does not resist as the leash is clipped onto her collar.
  John walks towards the door, pulling on the leash.
  "Come on, pet," he says as if she was a real dog. "Time for your walk. They'll have to be daily, or else you'll get out of shape."
  With her face a deep red, Clara has no other choice than to follow.
  Out of the house, John pulls her along to a nearby park. Neither of them know a lot of people in this town, but if they should meet one of the few, it will be completely embarrassing, at least for Clara.
  And just as expected, they do get a lot of strange looks. Some kids point and ask their mommies "what are they playing?" but the parents just pulls them away hurriedly. Clara's face is the same color as a tomato at this point, though John seems to take it calmly as he walks ahead of her, gradually making her increase the pace, not an easy feat with her arms and legs bound like they are.
  "At least I'm dressed in normal clothes," Clara thinks. She knows John has a lot of very revealing clothes around his house, many which they have bought together and that are meant to fit her specifically. But dressed in her jeans and blue blouse and black socks, at least some of her dignity is preserved. John too is dressed normally in a white shirt, jeans and sneakers.
  Then, something neither of them have thought about happens. They are stopped by someone they don't want to be stopped by. A uniformed man steps in front of them, blocking the path.
  "Police," he says, flashing his badge. "Mind telling me what's going on here?"