Then he moved his bands back, caressing my flanks. My head was down. My fingers were together, behind the back of my neck. I was in his collar. It was...steel, I could not remove it. I belonged to him. My body hurt, from his whip, that of my master. My head hurt, from my hair, where I had been conducted, unceremoniously, to this location. "Please, Master," I sobbed. "Not like this! Not you, please!" "The slave is pretty," he remarked. "Oh!" I cried. "Oh!" "You have a lovely ass," he said. "Ohhh!". While I’ve toyed with and written a couple of various short stories in the past, this is the first one I’ve decided to invest some real time and energy into. With that, feedback would be so amazing and I would love to hear what you all think about it. Hope you enjoy}__The mattress sunk into the bed frame as the weight of Jordan’s decision grew larger and larger. Only a few of the young adults at Thorsblood Academy had begun playing the game, but then again only a chosen few had received. More

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