Bitch

Without much thought, you grab the collar that would label you as a bitch, completely forgetting about the dangers of the dungeon. You pick it up, feeling the smooth, cold leather between your fingers, slipping it around your neck, fastening the buckle with shaking hands. The collar feels snug and secure against your skin, and you can't help but feel a sense of empowerment as you look down at it. Unsure why, you feel thrilled to embrace your submissive side.

With the collar now on, it started to alter your mind, making walking normally seem completely uncomfortable. Moving to all fours, the pose you assumed seemed completely natural, as if you were made to crawl. Crawling around to the next room of the dungeon, you can feel the collar chafing against your skin, a reminder of your submission and desire. You let out a soft whine, imagining the touch of someone - or something - else's hands on your skin and their lips against your neck. You know you shouldn't be, but you're ever so horny and **** for someone's touch, but you know that probably won't happen.

As you explore the neighboring room, you take in the sights and sounds around you. There are whips, chains and leashes hanging on the walls and a spanking bench in the middle of the room. As well as this, you swear that you saw a kennel in a nearby room. You wish you could feel the sting of the whip against your skin, to be bound and helpless, at the mercy of anyone present. You let out a moan of desire, your body aching for someone's touch.

You crawl to the table, your body yearning with need. Although you should probably be getting some rest, the horny state you found yourself in completely prevented that. You slip out of all clothes and crawl onto the spanking bench, the bright pink collar still fastened around your neck. You close your eyes and let your imagination run wild, your body lost in the pleasures of your own touch.