I am not sure how long I have been here. I must have passed out. I shook my head to clear the haziness. It could have been an hour or several hours. Time does not exist in this room. I am here because I need to learn. He took me behind the bookcase, the hidden door, to his secret room.
I can hear the chains rattling above my head, as the leather cuffs chafe my wrists. The tingling in my fingers has subsided, but the numbing coldness creeps further and further down my arm to my sore shoulders. My mind does not recognize my nakedness. The pressure of the bit hurts my jaw. The straps dig into my tear-stained cheeks.
The evaluation of my body continues. I feel the feathery touches of a delicate chain dancing between my voluptuous breasts. I wear the metal clamps on my rosy nipples every day because that is what he wants - my Master. I cannot wait to take it off to massage my sore nipples and imagine a soft, wet tongue bathing them with relief.
My Master - how I wish to please him. It occurs to me that he was particularly rough with me because I failed him. It is required that he disciplines me. Even though I am still in training, my rebellious nature needs to be addressed. My burning shame brings tears to my blue eyes.