Anari was startled from her contemplation of herself in the full-length mirror by the sudden opening of the bedroom door and the entry of Miss Simpson. Taken by surprise as she was, Anari was still alert enough to hear the quick intake of breath as the secretary took in the full wanton beauty of the captive girl. Her eyes flicked greedily over Anari's seductive body, noting the proud nipples and the shaved pussy thrusting lewdly through the slutty lingerie. It lasted only a moment and then Miss Simpson was all business-like again.
'This way,' she said, turning and sweeping out of the room. Her very high heels clattering on the floor, the plug making its insistent presence felt in her ass, Anari hurried after the woman, anxious not to lose her. She knew by now that any infringement or failure would lead to terrifying punishment.
The secretary led her through corridors to the room she remembered from when she first came here -- the Master's private quarters. It was a large but cosy room, a log fire burning and spitting in the hearth, the lights turned low. Nobody there. Miss Simpson hurried over to one wall and clicked a switch. With a whirr of hidden machinery a large circular portion of the floor started to rise to the height of about half a metre. The woman gestured to Anari. 'Put your hands behind your back.' Anari sighed inwardly as she saw the handcuffs appear.
I seem to spend most of my time restrained in some way, she reflected. But she obeyed, waiting submissively as Miss Simpson clicked the cuffs around her wrists and gagged her with a knotted scarf forced between her teeth and tied tightly at the back of her neck. 'Up onto the platform, girl,' ordered Miss Simpson. Momentarily startled by the strange request, Anari raised her eyebrows. 'Quickly! Do it!' Awkwardly, because of her bound hands, Anari stepped up onto the circular space. 'Now kneel down and put your forehead against the floor.' Still wondering what was happening, Anari did as she was told. 'Keep your knees wide. Now pull your cheeks apart with your fingers.' Miss Simpson demonstrated, her hands lingering on Anari's buttocks. Anari complied, realising that she was now on blatant display, her pussy exposed, the end of the butt-plug showing in her tight hole. Miss Simpson checked the effect, arranged Anari's hair to her satisfaction and then left.
Anari waited. Waiting seemed to be another of the features of her imprisonment. She was suddenly conscious of the loud beating of her heart. Her skin pricked with anticipation. The door opened and footsteps moved across the room, out of her line of vision. The creak of a leather armchair. The faint sound of breathing.
Then the platform she was on began to move, turning slowly. Anari obediently kept her face to the floor but out of the corner of her eye as she turned, she could see that it was the Master. He watched her intently, his gaze steady and penetrating. Watching his prize, his trophy. Taking pleasure in her humiliation. Slowly Anari turned, the flickering firelight casting seductive shadows over her voluptuous body. And still the Master watched her.
The platform stopped. Anari's heart missed a beat. Silence. Then the Master's voice. 'Sit up, girl. On your knees. Hands behind your head.' Knowing the importance of obedience, Anari struggled upright. The cuffs bit into her wrists as she placed her hands in the required position. She made sure that her knees were spread wide and her breasts pushed out. Her eyes were lowered. She realised with something of a shock that she was instinctively learning the ways of a slave. The platform started to turn again. Anari's down-cast eyes saw the thrust of her pert breasts, the nipples erect. She knew she made an erotic figure and she opened her knees just a little wider. Under the unflinching gaze of the Master she felt electric tremors running over her body, uncontrollable stirrings in her pussy and the first trickle of juices against her thighs.
Anari felt the Master's gaze upon her, insistent and steady. It made her nervous, generally with good reason. But she waited, restrained on her knees, for his orders.
