In a dark, tight space

Your eyes reopen on darkness, your head pounding painfully as consciousness slowly seeps back. You feel yourself move, shifting against the strange carpeted surface where you lie, as if pushed by some unseen ****.

Bewildered, you try to sit up and your head bangs against something immediately - wherever you are, its a tight fit, your body squeezed against a low ceiling. You smell something hazy, metallic, and can feel the entire space buzzing around you, but you're too weak, too confused to put it together until the motion, the smell, and the rumbling come to a stop.

You hear a car door slam and a pair of high-heeled feet walk briskly across pavement before a thin sliver of light appears as the trunk in which you're trapped is unlocked, then thrown open to reveal Amber's leonine blonde head, staring down at you a cold imperious smile on her face.

"Welcome to your new home, doll." You blink as you adjust to the light, realizing you're in some sort of garage. Reaching in with her two powerful arms, she lifts you out of the car with ease, setting you upright with no more difficulty than if you really were a doll.

Only then do you realize you're completely naked.

"Where did my-" WHAM - the blow knocks you to the ground before you even see it coming.

"What did we say about talking?" As you stare up at Amber, rubbing your jaw, you see in her sparkling blue eyes how much it pleases her to have this much power over you. "In this house, you will speak only with permission. You will follow all instructions. You will thank me, even when punished. And you will refer to me as Mistress, because I own you, because from this moment forward you are my Doll, my Bitch, my ****." Her foot taps lightly against your chin as she enumerates your new titles, her wicked smile dancing on her lips. "Now, as you have been punished, I believe there's a rule you must follow."

The shock of the moment has barely had time to sink in but out of self-preservation you scramble forward, doubling over at her feet in cowardly fear. "T-thank you."

You look up cautiously, **** for approval... and instead see her frown as she lifts a hand. Thinking quick, you shout "... Mistress! Thank you Mistress!"

She pauses, staying her hand... and then reaches down to cup your chin. "I knew I was right to pick you. You aren't perfect... but you will be." And she seems to lift you up to your feet once again just by flexing one massive arm.

Her perfect form turns on a heel and heads to the door for the house proper. "Now! Let's get you settled, doll." She doesn't look back as she marches ahead, assuming you will follow docilely behind - and to your shame, you do, meek as a baby lamb.