Quentin's touch brought a soft moan from his dozing slave as she opened her eyes to stare up at him. The feel of his fingers so gently touching her felt odd after having them inflict so much pain and Zoey quickly scrambled into her customary kneeling position. In her hurry to comply with what she thought would be his wishes she had forgotten about her ravaged backside and when the bruised flesh touched her heels she let out a squeal of pain. He was already striding away and since she had not been told to stand she erred on the side of caution and simply crawled after him.<br/><br/>By the time they reached the lift, Zoey was shaking. Her knees ached and every movement hurt. She felt terrified of what would happen to her if things did not go to plan. Almost as terrifying would be things working out to plan. Part of the plan was still another beating for her planned act of clumsiness. She did not really have time to think about that though as they arrived at their destination. Again she followed him until they were in front of the wardrobe. When he opened it, she could not help but smile. Even though they were all very revealing outfits, they were all well made and in a way they were hers. At his command she struggled to her feet and look through the selection of clothing.<br/><br/>She selected a white dress. Only the panel that covered her breasts was actually proper material. The rest was a gauzy, very sheer fabric that while technically covering her still let the purple and black bruises show through as well as the harsh red marks that still marred her pale skin from the previous day's lessons. She slipped on a pair of underwear, hoping that Quentin would allow her that modesty in front of her father. Lastly she picked up a thick black collar. It clashed with the outfit but it undeniably drew the eye. It was a sign of Quentin's ownership of her. While the outfit was arousing it also looked innocent and the collar seemed to spoil that innocence, almost as much as the bruises and welts that were visible through it. She was certain that it would be the perfect insult to her father's pride to see his daughter as both the sweet girl he had raised and the slave to Quentin's every whim that she had become.<span style="color: indigo">"Wh-what do you think Master?"</span>Zoey asked, her tone conveying her anxiety and fear.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>