Anya was of course quick to point out to me that night what hadn’t been immediately obvious.
“Master, a word in private?” She touched my arm as I stood there observing the sight of my beloved free companion lying on our bed, her wrists still tied to the slave ring. She seemed peaceful, relaxed, content, as women do when they have experienced a healthy orgasm. Her knees were curled slightly to her stomach in a foetal position and her breathing was the female equivalent of a gentle purr.
The sex with Cassandra had been acceptable. Not good. Not superb. Simply acceptable. But that was a big step up from our previous occasions.
“Can’t it wait?” I said, barely turning to view my lovely slave. I was very happy that I had bought Anya. Could a man have ever made a better investment than this striking dark haired slut? She was a marvel in the furs and her advice had guided me well so far in the behaviour of women. And she was smitten with me. It was obvious enough. I think she saw in me her true master.





