Checking her feet, she found they were also bound to the ultra-high-backed leather chair she sat in. Her head was also bound, with just enough movemen... to let her see she was naked. ‘Wha… what the Hell’s going on here? Where the fuck am I?’ The petite, demure 24-year-old was both scared and angry enough to let the profanity fly. Realizing that her thighs were also bound to the chair in a way to expose her most private areas only compounded the language. ‘All right, what the FUCK is going on. "Devon, you don't have to call me Sir anymore, remember?" Sir Gregory laughed."Old habits die hard I guess."Caitlin stood patiently behind Devon; her eyes focused on the ground in front of her. She found it difficult not to look at the other slaves. There was a strange mix of feelings that ran though her. She felt comfort knowing she wasn't alone and an uneasy competitiveness knowing she wanted to present well to make Devon proud."My, my, what do you have here?" Gregory asked with a sly grin on. More

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