"Just four...?" He sounded disappointed, and clicked his tongue. "I shall have to show you off over dinner, I suppose. No point having a pretty bauble and not flashing her around, is there, Whore?" It wasn't a question he wanted answer. It was like he was talking to a dog, or perhaps a piece of furniture he had some sort of fond memory for.<br/><br/>He caught her hand, pulling it out of position and ruining her otherwise faultless posture to push the pen into it, closing her fist around the slender, gold-plated item tightly. "Now then, I won't be overseeing you this afternoon, but I -will- hear about everything that happens. I'll know if you are bad, good, unwilling... Everything. Heaven forbid I hear that you refuse, or tend to too few of my servants... That -won't- look good. You will go to any servants or guests you can find on this floor of this building, and ask them if your whore mouth could be of use. Those will be your words; "Excuse me, sir, might my whore mouth be of use to you?" If they say yes, you kneel like I showed you, and do what you will soon do best. When they're done, have them mark their accomplishment and find someone else. If I hear that you attempt to leave, attempt to go to other floors, remove your panties, or are caught taking a break then you will be in bigger trouble than your pretty little mind can possibly imagine yet."<br/><br/>He paused in front of her, waiting for her acknowledgement. When it didn't come, he slapped her tits hard from one side with the flat of his hand, setting them bouncing and more pressingly causing a sharp shock of pain to burst through her chest. "You acknowledge your orders, Bitch, when I give you something to do." His hand slapped the other way, either to finish the punishment or indeed just because the wobbling of her chest flesh was a rather exciting site. Certainly that familiar, cruel grin was perched back on his lips.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>