"Yes," you say, hanging your head in shame. It's not exactly a lie - you've always been a bit more submissive, although you can be dominant when the situation calls for it. But right now, suspended from the ceiling by magical bonds, you are completely at her mercy.
"Indeed," she says, leaning down and using her index finger to lift the head of your erection. "We both know that, don't we, slave. And just to be clear: I am going to take control of you. I am going to make you my slave. And when I'm done, perhaps, you will wish me to fulfill that role forever." She grabs your throat. "I'm claiming you as my personal sex slave."
Your eyes widen, but she pushes on, her eyes flaming as they burn into yours. "Does the prospect of being forced to cater to my desires excite you? Does the idea of being used for my pleasure arouse you?"
You weakly nod your head. "Yes."
"Yes Mistress," she quickly corrects.
"Yes Mistress," you repeat, still staring into her eyes. The intensity of her gaze is almost frightening.
"Very good, slave," she says, keeping a grip on your throat that, while it doesn't cut off your air, definitely lets you know who is in charge. "Today, I am going to explain to you, in detail, what your role as my slave is. At the same time, we're going to start your training. You're going to learn exactly what I expect of you, my slave."
A shiver of fear runs through you as you wonder what she is planning, but you realize that you are about to find out as she snaps her fingers and a ________ and a _________ appear in her hand, her eyes glittering as she looks at you, suspended and helpless from the ceiling.
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