My Master asks, "Does that work for you, Richard?"
"It does indeed. But I'd like to hear more. Are you dressing the other breast now?"
"Of course."
My Master plucks at my other n****e, fitting the second clamp, this time snapping it into place.
My Master stands beside Richard to admire the result. "Charlotte, kneel upright. We want to see you."
Struggling to rise, in the mirrors, I see myself; Beth still gripping my hair in a rough ponytail, her eyes almost black with arousal; my skin, gilded by the flames and the candles; the gleam of fox at my loins. My breasts quiver with the palpitation of my chest, the painted areolae bronzed by the light. Centred by emerald, the chains dangle, glinting silver-gold.
Behind my reflection, Michael watches too, one hand still moving rhythmically b
