I was in need. My need was red. I needed Him. My Master. I felt the need. The unstoppable urge to feel him. For him to be in me. For him to use me. In...any way He wants. I needed pain. I needed fulfillment.I needed Him.He ordered me to get dressed like a slut, because He adores to see me like that. Of course, there are also black boots, a mask on my face, leather cuffs on my wrists, collar around my neck as a proof of belonging - his dog.He tied me to the door of the bathroom, hands over my. “That’s not small!” She tore her gaze from the object of interest and looked at his face. “It’s huge!”Now if the reader is a woman, you might not understand how such a comment might affect a man. If you’re a man, you understand completely.Mortimer preened.“Really?” he fished.“It’s immense!” she sighed. “It’s...” She searched for the right word. “It’s gigantic!”“Well, I am a giant,” said Mortimer, basking for the first time in the obvious appreciation of a woman, even if she was a pint-sized. " Open your eyes."She opened her eyes and found herself in the Watkins' living room exactly as she had described it. Including one detail she had left out. Rachel Watkins sat at her sister's feet clutching one of Samantha's legs and looking somewhat frightened. Samantha had an anxious look on her face as well. Irene was practically without expression as she sat watching her husband."Wow, I did that?" Yes. Now just think about the whole thing, the questions, answers, don't try to focus on any. I kept still whilst she applied mascara and sat there patiently whenleaned back to examine her handy work."Not bad, not bad" she muttered to herself before flourishing a blusherbrush and colouring in my cheeks. Next, a lip pencil was used tooutline my lips, finally applying a generous coat of bright redlipstick."Hang on a minute, not quite done" she said, as she then got out a lip-gloss and generously applied that too.Next thing, she'd got hold of my wig and had placed it on my head. .