You Go to her

With anticipation you walk the short corridor to where she waits, not happily, but waits none the less. The door is solid and final but opens easily to your touch. There she kneels, her head down, a large leather collar encircling her throat. She holds her hands out in front of her the leather throng of her leash sitting on her palms, from it a thin but sturdy chain joins her collar.

It is evident she has been in this position for some time her hands waver and she seems ready to drop the leash she so reverently offers you.