You are still.
Stood on a white cuboid platform.
Your feet planted far apart, ankles in bold red fuck me heels, thighs open, adorned by white stockings.
Your back is arched, presenting your cleavage forward, in a white basque, with pink bow at the front, likewise your bum cheeks are presented, framed by tight red thong panties. Tits and Ass are thus displayed.
Your neck is adorned by a thick white leather collar, a short, chained leash dangles from it, the handle resting upon your tits.
Your hands are upon your head, your digits enclosed in pink fingerless mittens, completing the pose. Your eyes look ahead, and your mouth is stretched forcefully around a big red ball, as drool dribbles from your vocal orifice.
You are Sir's work of art, his object, his still life. A work of objectified sexual art, standing before him, feeling his gaze upon your perfectly posed form, feeling pleased to please, to be enjoyed by Sir.
You are still.