“I’m sorry, Mistress!” she gasped, “Please don’t whip me.”
“Then answer the question.”
Gemma sucked in a deep breath.
“Yes, Mistress,” she whispered miserably, “I-I did, Mistress. I couldn’t help myself.”
“Naturally not!” the blonde agreed cheerfully, “Slaves are not supposed to be able to help themselves. That’s the whole point of enslaving them. If you could control your responses you wouldn’t be a slave girl, would you?”
The logic, at least from the blonde’s point of view, was inescapable and Gemma stared numbly down at the ground, realizing that she was trapped by a self-fulfilling prophecy. As a slave girl, in bondage, she was not able to control the responses forced from her, but because she wasn’t able to control her responses, she was deemed by the blonde and her friends, to b
