I open my eyes, hazy, blinking into unfamiliar shadows--this isn't my cabin? My vision clears slowly--the bed looms grand, the room unfurls in dim luxury, the cold bite of metal collars my neck--and then it slams me like a ton of bricks: I'm enslaved, curled at the foot of my new mistress. Rage should ignite, fear should claw, and they do, simmering low, but beneath them, something inexplicable flickers--excitement, sharp and forbidden, stirring in my gut.
The air's warm, thick with her vanilla scent, and my muscles ache from yesterday's ordeal--stocks, clamps, the tug-of-war loss a dull throb in my ass where the plug once sat. Ivy's still in bed, her bare foot brushing my cheek--soft, warm, teasing my skin--while the sleek black silk nighty she wears, a cute little thing barely covering her ass and tits, rustles faintly above me. My cock stirs despite the welts pulsing on my skin, and her breath's steady until she shifts, her toes nudging me as she stretches, a low hum escaping her lips. My silver shock collar--a constant, cold weight around my neck--shifts slightly, a reminder of her control even in sleep.
She hops up, silk slipping off her like a whisper, and pads barefoot to the wardrobe, her thick hair swaying. "Up, my little slave," she calls, voice bright but laced with a dark edge, and I roll to my knees, heart thudding as she rummages through her clothes. She pulls out a pair of black heels--sharp, commanding--and steps into them, then slips on lacy black panties and a matching corset-like top--delicate, sheer, hugging her tits like a bra and stretching down to her midriff, leaving little to the imagination. It's sexier, more "mistressy" than usual, hinting we're headed somewhere special, and her smoky blue eyes glint with giddy pride--her new toy, finally hers to flaunt. "Get ready," she says, spanking my ass--sharp, stinging my welts--and I scramble to the bathroom, splashing water on my face, brushing my teeth, every move quick under her gaze, her excitement a quiet buzz in the air.
She's waiting by the door when I crawl back, leash in hand, her lacy corset gleaming under the light, heels clicking softly. She clips it to my shock collar with a smirk, tugging me close. "All mine," she purrs, her breath hot on my ear, then pulls me out into the corridor--soft carpet cushioning my knees as I crawl on all fours, the island's rule for slaves like me. The hall's alive with others--female slaves trailing male masters, male slaves behind mistresses--all crawling over the plush floors, a parade of submission that's starting to feel normal, sinking into me like a second skin. Ivy strides ahead, her heels silent on the carpet, her lacy panties peeking beneath the corset's hem with every step, and I keep pace, the leash a steady pull, my bare ass exposed, cock dangling free--her approval from last night still a fragile shield.
We reach a sleek lift, and she presses the button, her grin sharp but mysterious. "Got somewhere special in mind," she says, voice low, teasing, her fingers tapping the leash. "You'll see what happens to slaves who can't behave--lucky you dodged that bullet last night, hm?" The lift dings, doors sliding open, and she tugs me in, the chain clinking as we descend. "Wonder what's waiting down there," she muses, her tone a subtle taunt, eyes glinting with secrets. My pulse races--anticipation, nerves--what's she hiding? The doors part--
--and we step into a gigantic, beautiful atrium, a sprawling palace of wealth that hits me like a gut punch. The ceiling soars impossibly high, a skylight spilling golden light over white marble floors, and I'm stark naked, every inch of me exposed--my skin prickling, uncomfortable, a raw fish in this fancy tank. "Stand," Ivy snaps, her voice slicing through my haze, and I rise, the silver shock collar heavy around my neck, my bare feet cold against the stone. She strides ahead, leash pulling tight, her black heels clicking, lacy corset hugging her curves down to her midriff, panties peeking beneath--and despite the grandeur, I can't peel my eyes off her perfect ass, swaying under that lace, a goddess leading me. The tug of the leash tightens my collar, a sharp thrill shooting through me--I feel excited suddenly by my nakedness, being Mistress Ivy's naked slave and her parading me as such.
The hall's a marvel--gallery seating rises on either side, plush and tiered, whispering of shows, opulence dripping from every chandelier, the central fountain glimmering like liquid gold. Slaves crawl at masters' hips, some sipping coffee at elegant tables, but my nakedness feels alien, wrong, in this polished world.
Then I see it--a young guy, maybe mid-20s, spoiled in a tailored blazer, tying a girl to a black metal post. Her wrists twist behind her, ropes biting tight, and she's trembling--smeared makeup streaking her face, mascara running in dark rivers, tears welling in her eyes, glistening under the atrium's skylight. It's jarring, raw--her microskirt barely clings to her hips, blouse knotted under her spilling tits, a slutty schoolgirl getup that feels less like a trophy and more like a broken doll in this opulent hall. A small crowd drifts closer as we near, ten meters away, their eyes glinting with cold curiosity.
Ivy slows, her voice a low tease. "That could've been you today, slave--breaking the newbie rule," she says, her fierce stride radiating pride--I didn't cave, and she's basking in it. I exhale, relief cutting through the ache of my welts--grateful I held firm, my nakedness already a gnawing unease in this polished space. But then my chest tightens--he brushes blonde hair from her face, and it's Valery--those familiar eyes, red-rimmed now, her submissive flinch as he spits on her, a wet splat hitting her cheek. She recoils, a soft whimper escaping, shattering my gut.
Her gaze lifts, catching mine, and relief flickers through her tears--Nick--a silent plea in her look, like I'm a lifeline in this hell. The guy turns, smirking, his voice brash but brittle. "This one hasn't learned shit--came without permission her first week," he says, tossing it to the crowd. "Red collar means she's yours all day--use her, break her, leave her wrecked." He spits again, hitting her chest, and Valery flinches, tears spilling now, her defiance gone, just a submissive shell trembling against the post. He storms off, red-faced, muttering under his breath.
