Bring her to the lounge and put her on display.

Your thumb drifts towards the “on” button on the vibrator’s remote—but only for a moment. “Hmmm…no, not yet,” you say. “I want to save this for when the time is right.”

Grace’s face visibly falls, disappointed at the prospect of having to wait. But you’re not holding off for no reason. “I want you to search through your wardrobe,” you say. “Find the sluttiest, most revealing outfit you have and put it on.”

Grace walks over to her closet, but she glances back at you with a look of confusion. “Master, I’m already naked for you.”

“And wearing it with style, too,” you reply with a wink. “But this isn’t just about what I see.”

She blinks, and then her eyes go wide with surprise as she realizes what you mean. Quickly turning away before you can make out her reaction, Grace opens her closet and quickly flips through a number of outfits. Like the rest of the room, it’s baroque and grandiose; a huge, relief-carved, filigree-inlaid edifice with ordinary clothes on one side and fetish wear on the other.

From the latter rack, Grace picks an outfit and slips into it smoothly: a neon pink sling bikini made of nothing more than a few long strings and three pieces of fabric not much bigger than postage stamps, so skimpy that it makes La Diabla Roja’s scarlet slingshot look positively conservative by comparison. She gives an undulating twirl of her body to give you the full effect, then sashays back towards you.

“Very nice,” you praise her, giving an appreciative wolf-whistle and a sharp slap on her ass that makes her yelp. “I’ll give you this much, you never did take half measures. Now come on, Gracey: we’re going on a field trip.”