’ He trailed off when he realized that his explanation was falling on deaf ears. The blonde looked at her watch and then began looking through her s...ack of papers again. Satisfied that she still had time to salvage this fiasco, she continued. ‘Now, Mister Rupert, please tell us your name…to the camera.’ ‘Rupert. Uh… Eric Rupert.’ ‘Mister Rupert, I’m filming you, not taking a mug shot. Feel free to talk in complete sentences. Women like that.’ ‘Sorry. My name is Eric Rupert.’ ‘Ah progress. Isn’t. It turned out that the authors of most stories simply used the quite unlikely "I am your master and you must obey everything I say" theme. Such a thing could happen, but it required that the subject already be willing to submit their will to that of another person, and that takes quite a lot... not just a submissive tendency, but one so strong that they would desire to actually lose their own personality in the process. In my mind, it was only natural that this couldn't happen as often as. This of course meant that she had to do all of her chores on her hands and knees...and that tonight’s session would probably keep her embarrassed and aroused for days. Crawling into the bathroom every single twist sent small sharp numbing sensations into her nipples and made the small kitten like mewls erupt further out of her throat. The scrubbing in the bathroom on the days she had to wear this was always particularly humiliating as it meant the scrubbing had to be done with her tongue, and. Renata and Constance spoke at one. "You are awake. The doctor predicted you would rejoin the living almost two days ago, and now you are finally here." Constance was thrilled to see me open my eyes. It was written all over her.Renata said something into her wrist mic, and I could hear activity outside my room. Doctor Abrams' people streamed in to prod, poke, and press on me, looking for all sorts of things, none of which they disclosed to me. For all the effort they spent on me, no one.