Keeping very, very still, hands at my sides, I kept my head bowed and eyes very much lowered. The only sounds in the room were the soft murmurs from the TV and a few very quiet voices from around the table, speaking too softly for me to hear their words clearly.

The dog simply sat next to me as wave after wave of sleepiness swept over me and I glanced the lovely warm and comfy sofa out of the corner of my eye. Of course, naturally I did not move and simply stood there as the voices kept talking. Blushing hard at the realisation of just how short my dress was and the size of the chunky ankle tag, marking me out as just an other item of Masters property.

Driving the message home to me that Master now owned me and I was now property. And as property I could either be well maintained or degrated as Master saw fit. Naturally, all the time I was dealing with these thoughts I remained utterly still and silent. My fear of the pain of the tag preventing me from speaking before I knew what was acceptable speech for property to make.