A click. The gate opens.
It's time.
Crawling out of your cage, you look up at Sir. Your eyes are wide and eager, your mouth stuffed by a large pink ball-gag, drool dribbling from your stretched lips. With a soft click, he atttaches the chain to your collar. Or, more accurately, His collar, that wraps around your neck that marks you as his.
He doesnt say a word, just one demanding look from his eyes triggers drooling from your other end. Such lovely symmetry.
Your bottom sways as you crawl behind him, and you feel his control as he activates the toy stuffed into your pussy. He has crafted the vibrations to inflict maximum stimulation and minimal release. He's made you so needy, yet he denies you. You cannot even beg.
Your brain between your legs, you crawl behind him, buttocks swaying, nude and on all fours while he walks upright, fully dressed and calm, while you quiver and drool, aching to cum, desperate to be used by Sir.
The walk is slow and languid, he walks elegantly, you crawl sheepishly behind, leaving a trail of your drool and cunt juice, a mark of your loss of control, and a statement of his control over you.
Sir stops at a door, and takes out a key, opening the private room. With a tug of his leash he bids you follow, and you crawl, your bum swaying, and gaze upon the array of toys and straps and benches.
Your eyes widen. Sir smiles at you. He pats your head, then looks into your eyes as he turns up the toy, and you grunt and moan through your gag.
Will he let you cum? Even as you drip needily and moan, you know the answer.