"Today, slave boy, we shop," the mistress declares, a gleam in her eye. She leads him by a leash, his eyes downcast, her heels clicking on the mall floor. She makes him try on outfits, strutting down the aisle like a catwalk. His body tenses as she runs her fingers along his crotch, checking his arousal. "Good boy," she purrs, rewarding him with a smack on the ass. In a private room, she demands he worship her feet, her legs, his tongue tracing her stockings, his hands bound behind his back. She teases him, her body inches from his, but never close enough to touch. "You will learn to control your urges, slave," she whispers, leaving him panting and wanting more.