There is never an end to my humiliation. i was alone, in a spare room at the dungeon, naked, on all fours, and collared. When the door opened, i dared not look or face the wrath of my Mistress. i heard the sounds of leather slapping against unprotected flesh and, soon after, the male cry of pain. The door closed, the room went silent, until the echo of high heels ricocheted around the padded room. Then i was staring down at two sets of black heels, strapped around soft, bare female skin. When commanded i raised my eyes and then quickly looked back down. i had never seen these women before and my mind spun like a fly caught in a spider’s web . . . .  . .