The stiff leather collar around my neck chaffed at the edges any time I dared to lower myself from my tip toe position. Mistress had attached a leather leash to the steel ring stitched to the collar and had secured the other end to the anchor point sunk into the dark masonry wall behind me. To make certain, that I did not foolishly try to free myself from the tether, she had bound my wrists and upper arms, just above the elbow, with 3/8 inch nylon braided rope. I was naked and felt helpless, vulnerable, exposed, and more than a bit anxious.
Careful not to raise my head from the downcast eyes position I had been ordered to adopt, I looked about the dimly lit chamber and my eyes fell on various implements of torture. A Saint Andrews Cross there, a pillory across from it, and a large steel cage in the corner. The stone floor was cold beneath my bare toes. The air was musty and the coolness of it raised goose bumps on my arms and legs.
Diverting my glance from the furnishings to her, I saw that she was sitting on a gaudy red velvet covered couch a stones throw from where I was immobilized and tied. This was my first foray into a dungeon experience since becoming her slave and I had no idea what was in store. How long would she leave me in this position I wondered, as the spasms of new muscle cramps begin to make themselves felt in my calf muscles and along the tops of my feet. Regardless of what painful experiences she planned to inflict on me, I was almost impatient for it to begin because I was so fatigued from being forced to stand on my tip toes for such an extended period of time. Fear and dread begin to envelope me as the thought occurred to me that perhaps she had no intention of loosing me from his position any time soon.