"Can... can I get dressed?" James asked.
Priyanka gave him a withering look.
"Of course not. Slaves don't wear clothes. Just stay there until I decide what to do with you."
James stood in the corner, back against the wall. The cool surface of the wall and the fresh chill of the room's air left him feeling uncomfortable. Priyanka carried on scrolling on her phone and ignoring him. She was lying on the bed, on her front, feet up in the air - something which James, of course, was well aware of.
A month ago, this petite, pretty Indian girl had been his girlfriend. Now, she was his goddess. It had been only a few days since he had accepted the offer of becoming her slave, but it already felt like a lifetime.
Deprived of attention and stimulation, James found himself looking at Priyanka instead. Watching her lie there, brushing her thick black hair behind her ear and swaying her legs back and forth in the air, he began to feel an acute warm tingling feeling in his abdomen. He realised that he was getting turned on again, and his penis began to swell.
Priyanka noticed with a smirk, but didn't comment.
After a few more minutes, she dismissed him. "OK, I'm done with you now. Go home, slave."
James hesitated, and she clearly saw the disappointment clouding his face.
"You're like a puppy dog aren't you? When are you going to realise that this is about my needs and desires, not yours? We're done for today, because I say so."
She rolled over onto her back and laughed. Her movement was so natural, so graceful and light - James found himself captivated despite his frustration.
He pulled his clothes on, but hesitated at the door. Had she forgotten? She usually...
"Why are you just hanging around?" said Priyanka. "Do you want something?"
James half-opened his mouth to speak, but felt a sudden wave of embarrassment and thought better of it. He shook his head and turned to the door.
Priyanka gave a sudden peal of laughter and clapped her hands together in girlish delight.
"Oh, I know what you want! You want another pair of my socks, don't you? So you can wank yourself off at home again, like a little pervert. So you can imagine kissing my feet while you touch your cock." James felt himself squirm at every demeaning word she emphasised, and a warm flush rose up his body. Priyanka squealed with glee at the effect her speech was having on him.
"Well," she continued, "if you want that, you're going to have to prove it to me."
Her lips curled even further into a devilish smirk as she pronounced clearly:
"Beg."
James felt a weakness in his knees and he fell to the floor before her. This always seemed to happen whenever she used that bitchy, commanding tone - he simply couldn't resist. His submissive nature would respond at a subconscious level, his body betraying him and moving of its own accord.
James looked up at his teenage goddess as he knelt there on the soft carpet of her bedroom floor. Oh, but Priyanka was beautiful! She was glowing, radiant - her gorgeous brown skin contrasting with his own pasty paleness. Her hair was luscious, ink-black, falling over her shoulders in pretty plaits and framing her face. The dark brown glint of her eyes suggested a mischievous streak which the grin on her full, kissable lips confirmed.
She was wearing the nightgown that he found most irresistible. It was patterned, with red and gold embroideries that complimented her deep caramel skin tones perfectly. Just loose enough to suggest a relaxed, comfortable seduction, and just fitted enough to show off her gorgeous curves... Taken as a whole, the effect of her beauty on James was entrancing.
That beauty was what made him beg.
"P- please, Priyanka..."
