"Whose bitch are you?" Christopher said loudly, the seductive sound of his voice bouncing off the walls as he roughly tore off his sub's bra. She was only wearing a lacy, unsubstantial bra and thong set. It was how he sometimes liked her to be dressed when they were alone together.

"I'm your bitch," Jennifer replied matter-of-factly, letting the choppy sound of the word "bitch" linger on her tongue for just a moment, feeling a little sting as the straps of her bra snapped as they came off of her.

"You have been so bad. I think you must be severely punished," retorted Christopher, thinking hard on what he would do with her this time. "You're always bad. You never learn. You WILL learn. Now. WHOSE FUCKING WHORE ARE YOU?!" he asked once more, wanting a more substantial reply than she had given before, and literally tearing off her thong, surprising her.

"I'm yours...all yours," she replied eagerly.

"And what do you call me?" he asked, inching even closer to her quivering body.

"I'm all yours, master."

"Better. You're damn right you are! Now get on your knees!" He smacked her ass hard, forcing her down.

Jennifer sat back on her feet, put her hands behind her back as if handcuffed, and bowed her head. Her long brown hair fell from behind her smooth shoulders and hung, hiding her face and revealing the back of her neck. She was completely naked now, the perfect picture of submission, and she knew that that was exactly what he wanted.

He picked up a thick black leather collar with red stitching and a hook on both the front and back sides and fastened it snugly to her neck. He brushed back her hair and lifted her chin to look at her face. He saw a surprised kind of fear in her eyes, but looking deeper, he saw a burning desire to find out what he had in store for her this time. In his eyes, she saw a dangerous, electric kind of look that seemed to pulse throughout the rest of his body and right into hers through his fingertips.

He dropped her chin, and she placed her head back down where it was. He took her hands from behind her back to the front of her, and moving behind her, he fastened a pair of shiny silver handcuffs around her wrists tightly. She felt the sting of the cold metal on her skin and breathed in loudly, but said nothing and kept her head down.

He thought to say a few things to her about what was about to happen, but then decided against it, preferring to remain silent. He tied a black silk blindfold around her eyes, a custom of theirs that they almost, but not quite always, observed in punishment. Finally, he fastened a small black leash to the front hook of her collar, and, pulling on it roughly, made her stand and follow him.

She followed him into the bedroom, knowing it was the bedroom by its familiar scent and the feel of the cold hardwood floors beneath her feet. She knew he had changed the room in some way she could not see, added something different that she knew nothing about most likely. He was always adding new things.

He pulled a little harder on the leash; he didn't want any time to be wasted. Suddenly, he dropped the leash, and taking her handcuffed wrists in his hand, he lifted her arms up above her and examined her copper colored body for just a moment from the bottom