My body was in a hogtie and hung in midair just 3ft off the ground. A sturdy chain from the ceiling carried my weight, while rough stone floors and windowless walls surrounded me. A plush red armchair had been placed just a few feet in front, and sitting on it was the man whom I had seen the other day, the man who had bought me.
Instead of a formal shirt and tie, he wore tight denim trousers and an unbuttoned silk shirt. It revealed his broad-shouldered, lean build, with toned arms and the faint ripples of abdominal muscles. Though nothing comparable to the male body-builders the media kept glorifying, he was certainly fit and athletic looking. He sat in an armchair with his head slightly tilted, staring at me as though assessing my value.
"Hello slave," he began, his lips curling into a
