Home delivery

On the appointed day, we went to the agency. I was delighted to meet Emma and other girls, most of whom I knew, as well as a few beginners, but none of us were showing off.

Simon asked us to undress. Once we were done, he distributed leather collars with rings, bracelets, and anklets, all equipped with rings. To transport us without any problems, he distributed capes that concealed our nakedness. I counted there were twelve of us instead of ten. Two seemed capable of handling the video equipment, but also of replacing any girls who might drop out.

Our bodyguard put us in a minibus where we were tightly packed but warm. Emma snuggled up to me, and I did the same. The journey took us outside the city, to a manor. A servant asked Simon to report to the servants' entrance while the guests went to the main entrance.

In front of this entrance, a maid dressed as a maid, who hid nothing and wore the same leather collar, bracelet, and anklets, took our capes from us as an icy wind from the British countryside chilled our senses, our bare feet assaulted by the gravel, urging us to enter an entrance leading to a staircase leading to the depths of the building.

A housekeeper, wearing a bustier revealing her breasts, wielding a riding crop, pointed out the chains on the floor and the padlocks.

• Okay, ladies, put these chains on your rings to bind your ankles and wrists, binding you in a single file. From now on, you will no longer speak without being invited. Bow your heads and don't even think about looking the guests in the eye. You will be working with the master's submissives, as well as with invited submissives. I'll give you 10 minutes. Without a word, accustomed to this kind of situation, we were ready in eight minutes. The housekeeper was satisfied; she took the end of the chain and pulled us into a long corridor. It was dotted with numerous rooms or halls with themes ranging from the most original to the most Gothic, with many rooms worthy of the Inquisition, even a swimming pool.

Finally, we entered a room of phenomenal proportions, carpeted entirely in red, with equipment here and there such as St. Andrew's crosses, pillories, and easels, all for sado-masochistic recreation. It also had sofas, tables, and a bar where about fifty slaves and masters shared glasses of champagne with maids dressed like the first, distributing trays of fine and refined food.

Heads bowed, we entered amidst cheers, mockery, and smutty remarks. The chains jingled with every step, our naked bodies quivering under the voracious gaze of the guests. The housekeeper pulled harder on our line, forcing us to move slowly toward the center of the room, where a low platform awaited us. Muffled laughter, appreciative murmurs, and the occasional sharp slap of a hand against bare flesh echoed around us.

A muscular, elegantly dressed man took a microphone.

• My friends, here are some surprise guests from a famous agency that many are familiar with. They are volunteering to go from applicant to club ****. You will test them, push them to their limits. You will appoint the most deserving of this title, worthy ones who will open our clientele to them.

He paused for a moment to emphasize his words and to see the reactions, which immediately turned to applause before continuing.

• To finalize this challenge, they will be separated in a **** competition for the title of **** Queen. They are at your disposal for several days. The other slaves will participate in this final contest and competition if they wish.

The chain tugged one last time, lining us up on the stage like a volunteer herd. A heavy silence fell, broken only by the squeal of the leather bracelets against our sweaty wrists.

A woman in a black lace corset, with elbow-length gloves, approached.