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After the unmistakable rumbling of Becky's van pulling up outside, Andrew strolled to the door and opened it before his guest had a chance to ring the doorbell. He was in his early thirties, well built, and somehow managed to make the early stages of balding look fashionable with his short, spiky hair.
"Hi," he greeted, looking relieved that Becky was finally at his house.
"Hi," she said. Her frizzy hair was tied back in a ponytail above well-worn casual clothes, and she carried a tote bag. "May I come in?"
"Of course," replied Andrew, motioning for her to come inside. "Would you like a drink?"
"No, thank you," said Becky as she followed Andrew down the hallway and into the lounge. "So where's the merchandise?" she asked as she sat on his couch. Evidently, she wanted to get straight to the point tonight.
"Give me a second," said Andrew, grinning. He left the room. A few moments later, the rattling of metal chains could be heard from upstairs. The sound grew louder until he finally reappeared, holding a leash in his hand.
Walking timidly behind him was a woman in her late twenties who was wearing nothing but steel cuffs around each limb and a matching collar, all joined together by chains that had started to lose their shine. She must have worn them often, and for at least a good year or two, realised Becky.
When Andrew stopped walking, the woman obediently knelt down at his side. Andrew grabbed a chain and pair of padlocks from behind the couch Becky was sitting on before unfastening the woman's leash from her collar. He replaced it with the chain, padlocking one end onto her collar and the other onto a floor hook discretely hidden beneath the couch.
"This is my slave," he said proudly.
Becky was surprised when the tethered woman looked straight at her. Although there was slight pleading in her pretty hazel eyes, there was barely a hint of self consciousness at being fully displayed in front of a stranger. That was a good sign indeed.
Becky walked up to Andrew's slave, closely examining every inch of her slender body. Her pubic hair was neatly trimmed, and there were no visible scars, piercings or tattoos. She was in top condition.
Without warning, Becky groped the slave's breasts from behind, first squeezing them firmly, then circling her fingertips around her nipples. Although she whimpered slightly, Becky was again impressed. She didn't flinch at all.
"How well trained is she?" asked Becky as she walked back to her bag. She took out a pair of medical gloves and slipped them on.
"Very," replied Andrew confidently. He looked down at the chained woman. "Go down on me, slave." Without a word or even hesitation, she started to unfasten Andrew's jeans. "Stop," he ordered. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading.
"Afraid you'll change your mind?" Becky grinned.
"Fellatio is one of the things she's best at."
"In front of a stranger, too," noted Becky as she applied some lubricant to her middle finger. "Impressive." She walked up to his slave again. "How good is she at cunnilingus?"
"I don't believe she's ever tried it yet," admitted Andrew. She had never even so much as kissed another woman as far as he knew, but she'd expressed a desire to one day be intimate with a dominant woman. It looked like that day had finally come.
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