<span style="font-size: 12px"><u><a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=http%3A%2F%2Fballa.com.cy%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2017%2F06%2Fgkom1_0-1-370x293.jpg&amp;hash=70636b641a462f0fb7e8ae1023f50a86" href="http://balla.com.cy/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/gkom1_0-1-370x293.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Chantel</a></u> swept aside a loose strand of hair that had fallen onto her face. She took a look at herself in the mirror of the vanity that she was sitting at. She gave a small smile, satisfied with the results of her work. Both her <u><a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=http%3A%2F%2Flove-haircuts.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2018%2F02%2F4-curly-messy-bun-long-hair-1.jpg&amp;hash=3f15c784a40d2b6e5624e381009db232" href="http://love-haircuts.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/4-curly-messy-bun-long-hair-1.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">hair</a></u> and her <u><a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fuserscontent2.emaze.com%2Fimages%2F830387f5-3f10-41c3-be75-f84399640c1d%2F135579ea3fbb3adeb2f470a54eac50c3.jpg&amp;hash=530c72836d4a21fa4778db8293a5b94b" href="https://userscontent2.emaze.com/images/830387f5-3f10-41c3-be75-f84399640c1d/135579ea3fbb3adeb2f470a54eac50c3.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">makeup</a></u> were complete. She adjusted the lacy material that made up her Tiffany blue  <a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fimage.dhgate.com%2F0x0s%2Ff2-albu-g5-M00-CD-70-rBVaJFidNwiAa_00AAKdDa4pvJw363.jpg%2F2018-women-beach-boho-summer-sheer-mesh-floral.jpg&amp;hash=9e420199e823fc612432de02fe36e52a" href="https://image.dhgate.com/0x0s/f2-albu-g5-M00-CD-70-rBVaJFidNwiAa_00AAKdDa4pvJw363.jpg/2018-women-beach-boho-summer-sheer-mesh-floral.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><u>dress</u>.</a> She'd spent over four hours preparing herself both mentally and physically. For all she knew, this might be the last time she would genuinely feel good about herself. Chantel turned herself so that she could put on the metallic  <a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fp11.secure.hostingprod.com%2F%40site.gojane.com%2Fssl%2Fimg%2Fe%2F13%2F133225-e-rosegold-0.jpg&amp;hash=4a61543c3eb3998eef7bfd76760eb130" href="https://p11.secure.hostingprod.com/@site.gojane.com/ssl/img/e/13/133225-e-rosegold-0.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><u>heels</u>.</a> She rose from the small, white velvet stool she had been sitting on, her hands and breath shaky as she strode to the white couch that sat in the center of the room. <br/>
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She sat down and crossed her legs. He would no doubt be here within the next ten minutes or so. Her stomach churned with both excitement and anxiety. Not that she was anxious about who her knew owner might be, but that he would be disappointed in  her. Chantel always strove to satisfy. That was both a strength and a downfall. Her tendency to be a people-pleaser often meant getting walked on. However, it assisted with the 'lifestyle' she had. She had been a quick learner when she was first trained to pleasure men as a slave. But she hadn't an idea of who she was about to meet, or what he liked. All she knew was that he must be filthy rich if he was able to pay the fees that the agency charged for their slaves. She hoped and prayed that he'd find her acceptable. That would at least mean kinder treatment.<br/>
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She was left alone with her thoughts for while until a small blonde woman called Helen, the assistant to the director, popped her head around the corner. "Mr. McCullen is here, Chantel. He's in the Intro Room waiting for you. Are you ready?" She asked kindly. Helen had always been genuinely friendly, and did her best to make sure the girls were comfortable. She treated them as if they were more than slaves. Chantel smiled and nodded as she stood up. "As ready as I'll ever be. Have you met him? Is he kind?" She asked, her nerves causing her voice to shake slightly as she approached. "I've only spoken to him over the phone to arrange things. But as far as I can tell, he seems to be nice enough. I really do hope the best for you." She replied to Chantel's inquiry. She picked up one of Chantel's hands, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Good Luck. Mr. Ellis has given the confirmation. It's time." Helen said. Chantel nodded with a shaky breath as Helen told her Mr. Ellis, the director, had given her the go-ahead. She led Chantel to the platform. Helen squeezed her hand once more before stepping off to the side. She stood next to the button quietly counting down so Chantel could prepare herself.  Chantel stood up straight, trying to look presentable as she attempted to calm her nerves. This was it . It was her last moment of freedom.<i> 3...2...1.</i><br/>
Helen's fingers grazed the button, setting the wall in motion.<br/>
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Chantel's stomach felt like it was free-falling. The moment the walls had opened wide enough, she caught a glimpse of the man that she would soon be leaving with. He had a handsome face, and a kind look about him, though you couldn't really judge a book by it's cover. Once the wall had fully opened, she took a deep breath before walking  down the stairs towards Jason McCullen. Chantel kept her head down respectfully, not making eye contact, the feeling in her stomach becoming stronger. She came to stop about 5 feet away from him, waiting for him to act. </span>