Disclaimer: This story involves gang-bangs, orgys, rough sex, water-play and intense BDSM themes

Summary:

Rule number 2: My body is His property and it serves only one purpose - Master's pleasure.

"Red lips are a whore's colour!" I hear my father's disapproving voice echo over and over in my mind. In the centre of the room, Master's guests are laughing and chatting along the grandiose marble dining table. Each one so formally dressed that you would think they were seated for a fine dining meal. That is until you notice the scantily clad submissives kneeling quietly by their feet. Each submissive chained to the floor by the same horrible posture collar that was wrapped tightly around my neck. Master tugs my leash downward and I gracefully drop on all fours behind him. The chatter in room quiets as everyone's eyes are on us. I feel Master's posture shift as we enter the room. With each step, he appears to become taller, more stoic in his expression. He wraps my leash around his hand, keeping it short so that I am forced to crawl at a heel by his feet as he walks towards the table. "Sorry I am late. I was busy tenderising tonight's meal." He chuckles as he takes his seat at the head of the table. I move to kneel by his feet like the other submissives but Master tugs my leash up. Pulling my leash tighter, he brings my face painfully close to his.