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I laid out the garments for Lucy: white stockings, garter belt, bra, under a white lace dress.

She’d come to me asking to be my slave and tonight I would test her limits.

I sent an attendant with the clothes, as well as hair and makeup instructions.

I eased into my black lace thong, and thigh high boots with the built in pocket for my riding crop. Johannes, my current male slave, helped lace me into my black leather corset. I felt power surge through me as the garment straightened my back and thrust my breasts into prominence.

“My friends,” I announced stepping on to the stage. “This little innocent has come to be corrupted.”

On cue, Lucy appeared on stage.

She looked nervous, but aroused.

“Look how sweet she is,” I said sarcastically, fingering her blonde curls. “Do you think she can handle it?”

I heard the usual catcalls throughout the fetish club. I turned to her with a smile, hefting one of her breasts in my hand.

“Strip!” I commanded, slapping her cruelly in the face.

Lucy’s eyes glistened with tears, but she pulled the dress over her head.

I heard murmurs of appreciation from the audience and licked my lips with anticipation.

Grabbing a fistful of her hair, I dragged her to the waiting cross and strapped her into place.

“To whom does this body belong?” I asked, sliding my dagger over her breasts and pussy.

“You, Mistress,” she replied, her voice thick with arousal.

I smelled her arousal now.

For the audience’s pleasure, I cut away her bra and panties and threw them at the crowd.

“To whom does this life belong?”

“You, Mistress.”

I smiled, clamping her nipples while she moaned and whimpered for the crowd.

Lucy and I were going to get along just fine.