He sent her the box, she opened it. What lay inside was a hand written note, her task. Beneath the note, wrapped and ready lay the belt, the dildo, th... lube and the timer.She knelt, careful to do so properly, exactly, then lifted the note and laid it on the low table, open like her legs, she read, quickly first, then slowly, taking note of every detail. Seeing the words on the screen had been bad enough, seeing the note was far worse, it was right here, right now.Time to obey. Taking the dildo. She smiled and laughed. ‘You do have a nice fat ass,’ I told her.‘Thanks! I work it out all day every day!’ She said.We sat and cuddled for a few mins. She asked, ‘So how big is your dick?’ As she ran her fingers across my stomachI was surprised that she asked me that. We never got to sexual talk without joking around. ‘About 7-8 inches.’ I replied. She let out a gasp as if she never saw a dick that big before. I knew she wasn’t a virgin by the four boyfriends she’s had in her two years in high. “I’m sure I’m right. Take off your shirt.” “No,” said the girl loudly. “How old are you?” he asked, looking angry as she backed away. Vixen left, slamming the door behind her. After the second speech class, a lecture on preparation, the instructor stopped her at the door, his hand on her upper arm. “You were sixteen when you did those porns, right? I found three more on the Internet, and I searched the birth-death records in Albany. You’re only seventeen now.” “None of your business,” Vixen. She smiled. "Yes, of course, but really, why are you a slave?"I wondered what she expected me to say, what the right answer was. Was it because three men had broken into my apartment the night before and abducted me, a knife at my throat? Was it because I had been tricked into attending a club with Cristina? Or was it something deeper, more primordial, more unconscious? "I am a slave because I exist to serve and to please masters, mistress," I finally managed to say."Get up and kneel before.