When Cynthia comes in, she immediately strips. This is a rule.
On Fridays, there is a procedure, a ceremony of ownership that must be followed.
She gets home first, I get home second and find her waiting, kneeling, head bowed and nude but for an ankle cuff.
“Welcome home Master,” she says, “May I worship your cock.”
“No,” I say, “I have something else in mind. Follow me crawling.”
I head into the bedroom, not even looking at her, knowing that she will crawl and knowing that my not looking at her will only add to her feelings of submission.