Chapter 6
I was back in my apartment.
I lifted the painting off the hook attaching it to the wall and set it on my
bed. I took one last, long glance at the expression of the helpless slave girl,
which was still a mystery to me, and slid it into a padded shipping container.
Peter, the gallery assistant, appeared in the apartment and helped me carry the
painting down the stairs and to the street, where he loaded it into the van to
return it to the gallery. The city streets were as busy as ever, but strangely
no sound made it to my ears. As if in a daze, I climbed back up the stairs to
my apartment, opened the drawer of my night stand, and took out the steel collar
that was still hidden there, closing it securely about my neck without even
testing the key. As I lay down on the bed, I felt a tug on the leash that was
attached to the collar. The other end must be tangled and caught on something.
I turned my head and lifted my body to relieve the pressure on my neck ...
***
I was awake again, still naked and bound on the floor by my master's bed. I
felt the tug on my collar again, more insistent this time. Realizing where I
was, I hastened to obey, struggling up to my knees and clambering onto the wide,
low bed. The tension in the leash pulled me toward his waist. He was lying on
his back. I approached him on my knees, a prisoner of the leash. I felt his
hand in my hair as he guided my head down toward him, positioning me the way he
wanted me.
"Yes, master," I whispered as I closed my lips around him.
I knew now that I was a slave girl, a mere comfort and amusement for this man
who could use me so casually, my purpose to warm his body in the early pre-dawn
hour. No thoughts of anger or rebellion crept into my mind, only the knowledge
that I belonged here, bending over him and serving him with my mouth and tongue.
There was no other choice, no other option for me in this world.
I felt his hands tighten in my hair as he stiffened inside my mouth, and felt
his body shudder as he poured his seed into me, savoring the taste of my
submission as I swallowed. I continued my work with my tongue until he lifted
my head off of him. A push from his foot instructed me that he was finished
with me, and I crept off the bed on my knees, returning to lie on the floor,
where I tried to pull the blanket partially over me.
I lay awake, on my side, to relieve the pressure on my bound wrists, as the gray
light of the early morning filtered through the curtains and into the room. I
remembered my life as an independent modern woman, an art history student and
gallery manager. Until yesterday, that had been my reality. But that was
behind me now, except for the fragmentary memories that might return in my
dreams. I didn't know how it was possible, but this was my reality now, to lie
chained at the foot of a master's bed, ready to serve his pleasure when summoned
by a simple tug on my leash. I wondered if he would choose to use me again this
morning. It was not up to me.
Somewhere, the choice had been made for me. And there was no going back.
