Sit next to her, closer than socially acceptable for strangers
From Create Your Own Story
You plant your ass right next to her. She jumps at the intrusion. There is enough room on the bench for your own spot, but you insist on rubbing up against her leather jacket. She holds the jacket tighter, wrapping it around her to conceal herself as much as possible. She is on the verge of panicking with cold sweat running down her forehead. Meekly she says. “Please miss could you… could you sit somewhere else?”
Seeing such a lovable creature be so terrified over your presence excites you almost sexually. Whoever this woman is you’ve certainly opened your eyes for her. She keeps sheltering her neck by bringing the collar up so you stretch yourself just enough to get a quick peek on what’s she’s hiding. The reaction comes quickly, but you saw what she got there, it was a steel slave collar.
Neither you nor the embarrassed slave has time to react before the master himself arrives. “God you stupid slave how the hell can't you expect to be a good slave when you can follow a god damn order.” He is as frustrated as the slave is nervous yet keeps a calm tone. The frustration steams from his body language as he runs his hands all over his face and hair in disappointment. “You were supposed to sit perfectly still for five minutes while I bought the stuff but all it takes is one little blond for you to start panicking…. God you’re a disappointing slave.”
“I’m sorry… master.” The word sorry was uttered so low that it was barely audible. This sends the man into another spasm of disappointment as he runs his hands through his hair and face while spinning around in frustration. You decide to give your expert advice. Your cult keeps plenty of sex slaves for yourself and you have trained a fair number of them.
“Sir, this slave is clearly not well trained to be serving in public. Look at how nervous she is. A properly trained slave wouldn’t even have the concept of shame in her head to begin with. She should have no objection to people harassing her in public."
The man who still holds his face with his hands peeks with one eye at you. He appears to be in his early forties. Well older than his teenage slave. He has blond hair and a thin beard which seems a bit wild and grubby. “And who might you be?” He asks.
