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.
Ivy yanks my leash, pulling me toward Valery, her heels clicking sharp as she closes the gap, her lacy corset glinting under the atrium's golden light. My bare skin prickles--naked, exposed, the crowd's eyes like needles--and Valery's teary gaze lifts, relief flickering as she sees me, though her mascara-streaked face betrays her fear. Ivy stops short of the post, her grip loosening slightly, and tilts her head, her smoky blue eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Who's this to you, slave?" she asks, her voice sweet but edged, a teasing lilt under her mastery as she tugs the leash playfully.
I swallow, my throat tight, the silver shock collar a cold weight. "She's... Valery, Mistress," I say, voice low, unsteady. "We're friends--from the boat." Ivy's lips curl, a slow, delighted smirk. "Friends, hm?" she purrs, stepping closer to Valery, her heels clicking as she leans in, inspecting her like a prized catch. "Aw, isn't that sweet--a little boat buddy?" Valery flinches, ropes creaking, but forces a shaky nod, her voice soft, submissive. "Yeah... Nick's... he's good," she murmurs, tears brimming as she glances at me, a faint smile breaking through. "Kept me sane that first night."
Ivy chuckles, a light, teasing sound, and pats Valery's cheek--gentle, almost tender, but her fingers linger, a master's touch. "Good, is he? Well, he's my good boy now," she says, her tone sugary, eyes flicking to me with a glint of possession. "What else about him, hmm? Tell your mistress." Valery hesitates, then mumbles, "He... he stuck by me--didn't let me freak out." Her voice cracks, submissive but honest, and Ivy hums, pleased, straightening up. "Stuck by you, did he? How precious."
She turns to me, her corset swaying as she steps in close, pulling a thin chain from her pocket with a casual flick--two silver clamps glinting as she clamps one on each nipple, a sharp pinch biting in like it's nothing to her, a jolt sparking through me, my knees wobbling as she smirks. Then she circles behind me, her heels a slow click-click, her nails stroking up my bare back--sharp, tantalizing, scraping over my welts, sending shivers down my spine. "You hear that, slave? She thinks you're a hero," she teases, her voice a low purr in my ear, her breath hot as she presses against me, her lacy panties brushing my ass. I hesitate--caught, flustered--and she pulls the clamp chain--sharp, searing--making me gasp. "Friends help each other, don't they? Especially when one's been naughty." She pauses, her nails digging in, letting it sink in as I nod, unsure. "Yes, Mistress," I whisper, and Valery echoes, "Yes, Mistress," her voice trembling, both of us caught in her game.
Ivy's hands slide to my shoulders, her touch firm, teasing, as she purrs, "Well, then, looks like we're gonna teach your friend a lesson today, aren't we?" She draws it out, slow and deliberate, her nails tracing down my arms--watching me squirm, my nakedness stark under the crowd's gaze, my heart pounding as her words coil tighter. "She needs to learn, doesn't she, slave?" Valery's eyes widen, tears spilling, and I nod again, trapped. "Yes, Mistress," we say in unison, her tease a noose around us both.
"How could we teach her a lesson, slave?" Ivy asks, her voice a sexy growl, slipping fully behind me now, one hand stroking my chest, nails grazing as she presses her corset-clad tits against my back. I freeze--what does she want?--my mind blank, and she tugs the chain again--pain flaring, my breath hitching as I stammer, "I... uh..." She pulls harder, a warning sting, her lips brushing my ear. "Come on, slave--don't keep me waiting." I fumble, desperate not to disappoint her, my goddess, and blurt, "Umm... we could spank her, Mistress?" It's weak, shaky, and she grabs my throat--fingers tight, sexy, pulling the clamp chain hard--pain exploding as she growls, "Come on, slave--you can be more creative than that! Come on, boy, come on, boy!" Her push is relentless, her voice a sultry snarl, poised and dripping with power as she squeezes, watching me squirm under her grip.
