He knelt silently at Her feet, eyes down to the floor. He wore only a pair of boxer briefs. He lived to please Her. He drank in Her dominance. It bound him tighter than any rope ever could. He dared not look up at Her. He could smell Her perfume, the scent caused a faint smile, as he drifted off into Her dominance.

She inhaled his submission. It was Her drug. To control, tease, deny, he was clay in Her hands. She circled around him, moving close to him from behind, lightly touching his hair. Her finger lightly touched his neck. He trembled, an icey tingle coursed through his body. She loved the way he melted at Her feet. What would be Her desire? Would She allow him to worship Her feet with a long, slow massage? Or perhaps he would bath Her, attending to Her every need and desire. Or did She want to use him as Her play toy? A thousand images flashed through his mind at once. He had only two desires; to meet whatever need or desire She had, and to totally, completely experience Her dominance.