Master has Kat tattooed

The prince took her leash and pulled her from the table. “Let’s get you tattooed.” He suggested.

“You mean… a **** tattoo?” She asked nervously. It was exciting but such a tattoo could make her property.

“Yes. But in a discreet location where it will not be seen. Something that you will know about and any lover you take will see. You risk a lifetime of slavery every time you brol with a man…” he said. He knew how the idea of slavery would excite a serum girl. They couldn’t help but be aroused by the possibility of losing all free will to a master. It was part of the **** genes they possessed - selectively bred from submissively inclined slaves over untold generations.

“I…” her arousal at the idea was abundantly clear. She was naked. Leased. And her master wished to **** tattoo her. The game, the charade felt more real suddenly. More vital and dangerous. She could end up a ****. Permanently. It made her wet and her desire scared her.

He led her naked out of the alcove and into the tavern. Collared but thankfully still masked. Her breasts swayed. Her nipples were upturned and erect. Her sex swollen and moist. Her heart raced as the cool air of the tavern brushed against her bare skin. Each step was a declaration of her new status. The mask and leash were one thing, but to be fully exposed like this was another. Her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and excitement as the tavern's patrons watched her pass, their eyes raking over her naked form. The whispers grew louder, the glances more blatant. Her nipples were rock hard. Her sex wet and swollen. And all could see. And they saw a **** girl. Possibly a free woman playing at slavery for kinky fun. Or maybe a serum girl, a former man reduced to a petitely curvaceous sex ****…

The leather of the leash grew tugged her forward and she grew damp with anticipation. She had always fantasized about the thrill of such public exposure, the humiliation and arousal that came with it. Now it was a reality, and she felt her legs tremble slightly with each step she took. Yet, she held her head high, The jingling of her collar and the occasional slap of the leash against her bare breasts kept her acutely aware of her position, her every move broadcasting her submission.

Prince Karl, ever the masterful showman, led her through the tavern with a confidence that made her feel both **** and cherished. He was in complete control, and she was his prize, his possession for the night.

As they stepped out into the moonlit streets, the cobblestones cool under her bare feet, she felt a new wave of shame wash over her. The city of Zhor was alive with the sounds of music, laughter, and the distant clang of swords from the arenas where warrior games were being held. The contrast of her nakedness with the vibrant backdrop of the masquerade was stark and thrilling. She felt so exposed, and so aroused.

Kat had surreptitiously dreamed of this, the thrill of being a serum girl, the complete surrender of self to the will of another. Now, as she walked behind Prince Karl, her every step echoing her newfound identity, she could feel the eyes of strangers upon her, taking in her nudity, her vulnerability. It was a heady mix of emotions, a potent cocktail of embarrassment and excitement that had her body singing with need. The leather leash grew tight, a constant reminder of her status, and she could feel her arousal growing with each passing moment.

Prince Karl, ever the charming and attentive master, led her through the crowded streets, his hand resting gently on the small of her back, guiding her through the throngs of masqueraded revelers.