At the Queen's Pleasure

Amy was led into a richly appointed room. Fuzzy, red carpeting filled with intricate patterns caressed her feet, rich wall paper extended high to a vaulted ceiling from dark wood wainscoting, and light poured in through two windows that opened out to give a picturesque view of the town, nestled in the bosom of Caribbean sea which sparkled off of the horizon. In the center of the room was a table, made of the same dark wood as the rest of the rich appointments in the space: an armoire against one wall, bench next to it. Various photographs dotted the walls, showing slaves of every race, size, shape, and appearance in a huge variety of position, forever displaying their wares to the viewer.

At the table in the center of the room, Amy saw The Master, who she was quickly led to by the concierge. "Your baggage sir." the concierge said, handing the leash to Amy's owner. Amy quickly knelt into the carpet beside him, feeling the carpet press against around her ass, blocked by the leather chastity belt that still protected her.

Across from them was a curtain pulled across the length of the room, from behind it Amy could hear rustling and bumping as something was moved around back there. Above her, the master was counting money into stacks. The sound of rustling cash muted only by the whispering under his breath as he counted.

Fin