A latex girl thing
Slave said, “Master, a moment.” She reached up and undid the collar she wore with the female crucified on the St. Andrew’s cross. “Forgive me, but I don’t want this damaged during play. It’s not a true slave collar; it’s very precious to me. With your permission, I will stow this and fetch a proper collar and leash.”
“You may, Slave,” said Rusty, a glint of cruelty appearing in his leading left eye. “In fact, I saw a collar out there with your name on it. Get that one, and get a very long leather lead; thin with no snaps.”
“Yes Master,” said Slave.
“And get out of your clothes,” he further added. “But keep your ‘skin’ on, and your boots.”
“Yes Master,” said Slave. Her heels betrayed her position as her slick, sleek body vanished amongst the sea of mostly black clothing and accessories.
Rusty took this time to get better acquainted with the dungeon, thinking how he was going to treat Slave: order her around like a slave, bind her and give her a little of what he wants which isn’t that far off from what she wants, a combination? Other than her no latex removal restriction, he felt she was game for anything. As adventurous as his wife was, he was going behind her back because her pace of trying kinky things was pretty damn slow compared to other people they knew. Slave was a dream come true.
