Chapter 6

I was back in my apartment.

I lifted the painting off the hook attaching it to the wall and set it on my bed. I took one last, long glance at the expression of the helpless slave girl, which was still a mystery to me, and slid it into a padded shipping container. Peter, the gallery assistant, appeared in the apartment and helped me carry the painting down the stairs and to the street, where he loaded it into the van to return it to the gallery. The city streets were as busy as ever, but strangely no sound made it to my ears. As if in a daze, I climbed back up the stairs to my apartment, opened the drawer of my night stand, and took out the steel collar that was still hidden there, closing it securely about my neck without even testing the key. As I lay down on the bed, I felt a tug on the leash that was attached to the collar. The other end must be tangled and caught on something. I turned my head and lifted my body to relieve the pressure on my neck .



I was awake again, still naked and bound on the floor by my master's bed. I felt the tug on my collar again, more insistent this time. Realizing where I was, I hastened to obey, struggling up to my knees and clambering onto the wide, low bed. The tension in the leash pulled me toward his waist. He was lying on his back. I approached him on my knees, a prisoner of the leash. I felt his hand in my hair as he guided my head down toward him, positioning me the way he wanted me.

"Yes, master," I whispered as I closed my lips around him.

I knew now that I was a slave girl, a mere comfort and amusement for this man who could use me so casually, my purpose to warm his body in the early pre-dawn hour. No thoughts of anger or rebellion crept into my mind, only the knowledge that I belonged here, bending over him and serving him with my mouth and tongue. There was no other choice, no other option for me in this world.

I felt his hands tighten in my hair as he stiffened inside my mouth, and felt his body shudder as he poured his seed into me, savoring the taste of my submission as I swallowed. I continued my work with my tongue until he lifted my head off of him. A push from his foot instructed me that he was finished with me, and I crept off the bed on my knees, returning to lie on the floor, where I tried to pull the blanket partially over me.

I lay awake, on my side, to relieve the pressure on my bound wrists, as the gray light of the early morning filtered through the curtains and into the room. I remembered my life as an independent modern woman, an art history student and gallery manager. Until yesterday, that had been my reality. But that was behind me now, except for the fragmentary memories that might return in my dreams. I didn't know how it was possible, but this was my reality now, to lie chained at the foot of a master's bed, ready to serve his pleasure when summoned by a simple tug on my leash. I wondered if he would choose to use me again this morning. It was not up to me.

Somewhere, the choice had been made for me. And there was no going back.