“Stand right over there and be silent unless I ask you to speak,” Cole said, pointing to
the center of the room. A light piano concerto played softly from expensive speakers
concealed in the polished oak bookcases and soft light spilled from two lamps in the
corners.
Monica’s heart was pounding and she concentrated on the features of the room for a moment
to calm herself. She saw that his computer was one of the latest models. Probably a late
Pentium class, she guessed, nice big monitor, ergonomic keyboard, CD-ROM drive, expensive
printer. The furniture reminded her of the expensive walnut and teak pieces that her
company’s CEO had in his private office. There was a fax machine or copier on a credenza
behind the desk. The stereo was apparently hidden, she noted. As she looked down at her
feet and noticed the fine texture of the light gray carpet, her heart was again beating
normally.
Cole pulled up a comfortable chair. He placed it in front of her about six feet away and
sat down, which brought her attention back to him. He waited a few moments to see if she
would remain silent as instructed. Monica was looking approximately at his feet, which he
hoped was a sign of submission. She was wearing a short bomber-style jacket over her
white top, so the next thing he said was “Thank you for coming, Little One. Take off your
jacket and place it over the chair behind you”
Monica complied and returned to her position in the middle of the room. Cole was
fascinated by her instinctive submission. Perhaps she had more experience at this game
than she had admitted.
“Put your hands behind your head.”
Cole’s line of sight was drawn inexorably to Monica’s breasts and he studied them
intently. “Put your arms down,” he said, then “Put them back behind your head”
He noticed that her breasts did not sag like they should for a 26 year old woman with
this kind of figure.
“What is your bra size Monica?”
She felt a delicious wave of humiliation sweep over her and struggled to get out her
answer. “I’m a 36 C, Master."
“Do you have breast implants, Little One?”
“No Master!” she exclaimed.
“Take off your top and we’ll see about that. Place it on the chair by your jacket.”
Monica pulled off her white top by grasping it from the bottom and pulling it over her
head. After placing it on the chair she resumed her position in front of Cole with her
hands at her sides.
Cole stepped forward to examine her breasts and brushed some of her beautiful long brown
hair out of the way. With her arms down, they did sag slightly. The nipples were medium
size and quite hard already. They were a beautiful pair, perhaps the prettiest breasts he
had ever seen. The word perky came to mind, but he didn’t know if perky could apply to
breasts this size. Perhaps he should mail the question to the Playboy Advisor, he thought
while suppressing a grin. He very delicately brushed her nipples with his fingertips and
they grew even harder.
“Put your hands behind your head again,” he ordered, in his dominant voice which Monica
found both charming and irresistible.
He began to squeeze and fondle the perfect globes while he inspected them for any
surgical scars. After a minute or two Monica felt lightheaded from the stimulation and
became slightly unsteady. The delicious feeling of humiliation wasn’t helping.
“You pass the test Little One. Those are the most beautiful breasts I’ve ever seen. Put
your arms down now and take a deep breath. Can’t have you passing out now, can we?”
“No, Master.”
Cole sat down again and tried to take a few deep breaths himself. Could a potential
partner be too perfect? He was feeling slightly overwhelmed.
After a short time he ordered, “Take off your jeans now and place them on the
chair."
Monica complied and resumed her position, now clad in lacy white panties and black high
heels. On her own initiative, she put her hands behind her head to thrust out her breasts
in the manner that her new Master seemed to like.
Although Cole was a card-carrying breast man, the view of Monica’s perfectly rounded hips
and flat stomach almost caused his heart to stop. She had a tattoo over her right hipbone
that he moved forward to examine. It appeared to be a small naked woman that might be
described as a winged nymph. It was exquisite, perhaps the work of a famous tattoo
artist. I’ll have to ask her about it later, he thought. Cole moved back to his chair
and just looked at her for a few minutes, drinking in the intoxicating sight.
His inspection of her body gave the solution to another mystery. Although she didn’t
carry an ounce of what he would consider excess weight, she was slightly large boned and
firmly muscled beneath her curves. Her reported weight of one hundred forty pounds was
probably accurate, but most people would guess it to be about twenty pounds less. He was
delighted that she didn’t resemble the starving fashion models, but he could understand
how she might be worried that she didn’t measure up to society’s standards.
“Do you lift weights often, Little One?”
“Yes, Master. Three or four times a week.”
“I see. Take off your panties and drop them on the floor."
| 
