If someone were to be strapped to this table when it was in the open position, he or she, (ME!), would be spread-eagled, with just her torso supported by the intersection of the bars. My head and pelvis would be hanging free in the air. It looked very uncomfortable. I closed my eyes and imagined being tied down on it, helpless, being subjected to unspeakable humiliation. My pussy was wet and itching without my having to even touch it.

At lunch time my master sent me to my room to shower and freshen up. When I was powdered and perfumed, as instructed, I put on a fresh outfit. Clean stockings and garter belt, different shoes, and, also as instructed, I substituted a white collar with bow tie for my dog collar and leash.

When I was ready I stood, just inside the door, with my feet apart and my hands behind my back, waiting for my master. He didn't keep me waiting more than a few minutes. He entered without knocking, looked me over approvingly, and took me downstairs to the kitchen.

"I hope you like what I have prepared for us," He said. "Please do not expect me to cook for you forever, I merely want you to become accustomed to the style and quality of food I will expect you to prepare on special occasions."

It was a simple luncheon of chicken a la Kiev, asparagus with wild rice, and a small Caesar salad. I despaired of ever being able to equal it. I think He suspected my despair, because once or twice He gave me a teasing kind of chuckle when He took a bite of food.

After lunch He took me to His study. He had me sit on His desk while He worked on an article He was writing. He wanted to be able to see my sex, He said, for inspiration.