As always it seemed, Zoey could only fidget nervously while Quentin critiqued her efforts. She knew that he drew these moments out before delivering his praise of his punishment. At least this time she managed not to squirm fearfully. A bright smile brightened her face and despite the deep bruises that marred her skin and the red, slightly raised welts in that moment she looked radiant. The mention of needing something for her feet deflated her slightly and she cursed herself for not thinking of that. She was getting better though at figuring what her Master required of her and that was something she was actually quite proud of.<br/><br/>She simply nodded at his suggestions mutely, blushing that she was not allowed underwear only to have the blush deepen when she remembered that she had no even considered taking any in the first place. She saw the smirk when his eyes shifted to the gadget he had been assembling. She did not know what the creation did but the smirk said that it did not bode well for her. She was impressed by the craftsmanship of the small gadget and she watched curiously as Quentin wound it up. She was to wear it. She did not understand and as such she felt fear start to grip her. It was somehow going to make her orgasm? Again she did not understand but still she obediently widened her stance so the Quentin could attach the little golden toy. Her lower lip disappeared between her teeth and she bit down as his fingers arranged it, teasing her at the same time.<br/><br/>Only a second after he let go, Zoey gained a profound understanding of what Quentin had meant. The thing buzzed to life between her parted lower lips and her eyes widened in shock. Those same pleading eyes looked up to Quentin as he simply ordered her to get ready. Already little mewling sounds of pleasure could not be contained and as her Master left the room she tried to do his will but each step took focus and concentration so it was very slow going. She had never felt anything like that. It was at once greater pleasure than even Quentin's skills touch had produced and a worse punishment than those hands had dished out. How was she supposed to make it to the dining room, never mind act the part of a dominant when she could barely walk?<br/><br/>Still, after several long minutes, with beads of wetness slipping along her inner thighs she had managed to select a pair of knee-high black leather boots with tall heels. She was kneeling on the floor (after having her legs give out) and struggling to stop her hands from shaking long enough to button the tight vest. At this point her hips were pushing forward, wanting more sensation but unable to attain it. Not that it mattered; she knew that she could not hold off much longer. She was beginning to worry that it was her than Quentin meant to punish. Maybe he intended to give her to the kitchen staff after all. She was going to be late arriving to the dining room due to the insidious contraption attached to her. She rolled onto her back and began to slide the tight fitted pants up her toned legs. It went rather easily until she lifted her bottom off of the ground and tugged them into place.<br/><br/>In her distraction she had not considered what the affects of the tight material pushing against the little buzzing invention would be. As it turned out, it increased the sensation and bore her over the edge of her release. As she whined and moaned, bucking her hips uncontrollably, she had to appreciate the irony of being dressed to exude dominance and power yet writhing helplessly in orgasm. It was several long minutes before she regained enough composure to tug on the boots. With much work, Zoey managed to get her feet under her, shaky as they were, and begin walking down to the dining room. Her steps were measured and she managed to find a way to walk that was the least stimulating. Still every once in a while she would falter and stumble into the wall. Panting harshly she would simply lean there as pleasure ripped through her again.<br/><br/>She entered the dining hall and looked to her Master. The slight glisten of perspiration along her hairline and the tremble in her thighs along with the almost desperate look in her eyes spoke volumes about her state of being. Quentin might note that she was managing quite well to keep those indicators in check. A lesser man might easily miss them, but Quentin was becoming familiar with her reactions and she was sure he read her with the ease of a child's book. So she simply moved to stand by him, hoping that she could keep her face impassive as the pleasure began to build again.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>