Every time I looked at myself in the mirror I felt a sense of disbelief mixed with something like awed heat. This was me!?

It wasn't like I haven't seen myself naked before, of course. I mean, I'm no more vain than the next girl, but I'd certainly taken note of what I looked like, of my slender, curved body and the breasts which had often drawn unwanted attention to me.

I was used to thinking of myself as Melody, the writer, the intelligent girl, the one who went against all the clichés about dumb, slutty blondes. I dressed responsibly, not provocatively, and acted in concert with my mind, not my emotions.

And now there was a collar around my neck. It was metallic on the outside, etched with complex, intricate designs so that it looked really quite beautiful, though simple. It was stainless steel on the outside, but had a sort of leathery interior which rested against my skin.

It was tight enough, though it didn't hinder my breathing, and pretty enough to be a choker, with the right wardrobe. At least, if you didn't notice the very noticeable ring set into the middle. There were similar rings on the very similar metallic bands around my wrists and ankles.

And that was ALL I wore.

The collar and shackles made me feel more naked than naked, made me feel extremely sexual, and tightened my chest with the dark, thrilling sexual thoughts which filled my mind.

My heart, I think, had started to beat more quickly the closer I had come to Mister Trask's visit, and had never slowed down. Certainly his initial, breathless entry, wherein he had given me several orgasms and a very hot, sore bottom, had given me little opportunity to calm down!

Nor was this!

I was belly down on a wide, heavy coffee table, my belly tucked in tightly against my thighs as I held my bottom high. My legs were spread wide. My arms were stretched before me, wrists shackled together, my breasts pillowed out against the table.

And my neck was getting sore from the way the position forced my chin up and back.

I wasn't thinking about my neck that much, though. I was thinking of how utterly full I felt, for Mister Trask had shoved two big dildos into my narrow belly, screwed them in, pumped them in, twisted and turned until they were achingly deep.

Now he was sitting down behind me watching TV.

All I had to do was maintain this position, very firmly, very strictly, and continue to chant the words he had told me to, low enough not to disturb his television program, but loudly enough he could tell if I stopped.

"I'm Evan Trask's sex slave," were the words I said, over and over and over again.

I wasn't a short girl, but Trask was a head taller. He was about fifteen years older than me, incredibly handsome, suave, sophisticated and arrogant. Then again, he had a lot to be arrogant about. He was filthy rich, incredibly good looking, and had the best body I'd ever seen or felt in my life.

I had been a very normal girl up until he'd arrived at his mother's condo where I was house sitting, letting himself in and catching me naked out on the balcony in the hot tub. A gentleman would have apologized, gotten me a towel, and turned his head while I covered myself and hurried out to dress.

Evan Trask was not a gentleman. He had cockily looked at me, and invited me to get out and leave any time I wanted. Then he'd gotten undressed himself to show me just what waited for me if I stayed.

He wasn't just into possessing my body, though. He was a man with vast sexual experience and had slept with any number of girls. No, he wanted my mind too. And he'd instantly set about disabusing me of any notion that I was in any way his equal or that I had any say in whatever we did together.

I wouldn't have accepted that from any man - normally, but I'd been more than slightly overwhelmed by him, not to mention being naked at the time! And, well, he was older and bigger and more sophisticated and... and the orgasms which had followed had rocked my world and my mind.

If I'd had those orgasms while tied up, well, so what? They were still the most incredible orgasms of my life! And if he insisted on giving orders, well, he WAS older and more educated, and he'd kind of become my boss in that he was now paying me to house sit.

At least, I told myself that was what the money was for.

But I'd done shocking, wicked, kinky things! I'd licked his feet! I'd let him sodomize me! I'd crawled on a leash, for Gods sakes! Such things had never even occurred to me before! What kind of a pervert wanted girls to crawl on a leash and call him sir all the time!?

My bottom was probably back to its old color now, after that nasty spanking I'd endured. I mean, I'd made him lunch and then we'd eaten together. Of course, I'd been on my knees on the floor eating out of his hands while he'd been sitting up in a chair like a proper person.