Maggie did her best not to squirm, but the tip of the crop traveling slowly down her spine sent terrified little thrills along her skin. She desperately wanted to move, but… Be still, She had told her, and so Maggie was still. Be silent, She had said, so Maggie made no sound above the nervous panting of her lungs. She flexed her arms and stood a bit higher on tip toe, an attempt to restore blood flow to her hands. She hated being like this, bound by her wrists to the hook on the rafter above, but she deserved it. She had been a bad slave. Bad, bad slave… The tip of the crop had reached her heart shaped bottom, almost lovingly outlining it’s pretty curvature. Maggie felt her body tense in automatic response, expecting the pain to come. Nothing happened. The crop disappeared. She was left standing naked and stretched with her arms above her, vulnerable and exposed, untouched. “Bad, bad slave…” the voice of her Mistress purred as She circled her, eyes dark with anger. The crop was gone, cast aside. Now She held a wooden paddle and used its tip to lift Her slave’s chin, looking into her teary eyes. “Tell Me why you’re on the hook.” “Miss, please,” Maggie sniffled, pathetic thing that she was. Her limbs almanbahis were starting to tremble. Her Mistress let her chin back down so she could keep her eyes on the floor where they belonged. “I’m on the hook because I’ve been bad. I disobeyed You, Miss.” Her head hung low, curling auburn hair veiling her view of her surroundings. She dared not lift her eyes to watch her Mistress as She paced, not even so high as to look at the fishnet wrapped around Her elegant calves. The wooden paddle lifted each of the slave’s soft, pale breasts in turn as though gauging them, weighing them. Maggie bit her lip. Would her Mistress spank her tits as punishment? Her nipples hardened, remembering the last time her chest had received such treatment. The cleft between her legs pulsed, grew wetter in anticipation, but the wooden paddle disappeared as well. Inwardly the slave groaned. She knew she would be punished, she deserved it, but waiting for it, not knowing what that punishment would be, made her uneasy. Her Mistress’s leather-clad feet appeared in view of her down-turned eyes and she watched with sudden trepidation as clips were attached to her tender nipples, still bruised from the previous day’s activities. “Bad, almanbahis yeni giriş bad slave…” The dissatisfied tone of her Mistress’s voice made her sorrier than ever that she had failed to be obedient. “Such a disappointment to Me… After I worked so hard to train you, to bring you to where you belong – at My feet. Your place is on your knees at My heels, have you forgotten that?” She was attaching little silver chains to the clips, and at the end of each chain dangled a little round weight. Her Mistress let the weights drop from Her hand unceremoniously, without care to Her slave’s tender flesh. Maggie gasped at the sudden sharp pain as the weights hit the length of their chain and hung, pulling cruelly on her nipples. Her Mistress was parting Maggie’s legs, pushing them open with Her knee. She reached for the little silver rings that pierced her labia and attached another set of weights. Could She feel how wet her slave was? Maggie stifled her whimper as her swollen pink lips were stretched and pulled. “Your body will remember its place, even if you don’t. When I am near you, when you hear My voice, even if you so much as think My name, your body will remember this feeling, of being almanbahis giriş pulled to the ground. Slaves belong on the ground, like other animals.” Maggie nodded tearfully. Another weighted chain attached to the silver metal collar around her neck. The feeling of heaviness was incredible; she longed to kneel, to flatten herself against the floorboards and relieve the strain on her tender flesh, to supplicate herself before She who owned her. The tail end of a leather bullwhip trailed by her vision, snakelike at her feet. Panic blossomed. Her Mistress knew she couldn’t take the whip well; it was by far the most cruel way She could exact Her price on Her slave’s flesh. Maggie’s eyes were wide but still she did not move. If this was Her Mistress’s decision, so be it, but she was truly shaking now. Cold sweat had begun to bead along her back and brow. She thought back to the morning’s events and her reason for being bound up now. Had it really been that bad, what she had done? If Her Mistress would whip her for it, then yes. Very, very bad. Bad, bad slave… Maggie started to cry. Mentally she cursed her clumsiness, her penchant for being so easily distracted. There was no hope for it now. She had displeased her Mistress and would suffer for it. Pain would bring her absolution, her Mistress would see to that. She would take her hand and guide her through it, show her the way back to Her good graces, a good slave at Her aristocratic feet.