I slowly circle my kitten, she is exactly as instructed: naked, on her knees, head on the floor, ass in the air, and of course not looking at me. She looks good and helpless in that bar, I like it.I make a scratching sound as I pick up the riding crop and she wiggles a little in anticipation. She loved it last time but complained it left marks, oh well. I continue to circle, she is such a good little kitten, turning her head to keep from looking at me but I can tell she is anticipation that pop of that crop at any second, is that a dimple I see form a smile? ‘Yes kitten I like this too.’ I think to my self as I finally allow the crop to touch her right ass cheek. She jumps and quivers all over, she was expecting a pop and all she got was a touch. I sternly correct her, “head on the floor, don’t you move” she presses her head to the floor but there is still that dimple form that smile.. I will have to fix that later.Lightly touching the crop to her again, she quivers but keeps her. She shut down the ships systems and opened the main hatch.Tristan walked behind Aesia as she had instructed him to and followed her to the house. Traditional slave garb included a hood that could be pulled forward to cover the eyes. A slave should not make eye contact with any of the masters. For Tristan, the outfit added to the anonymity and covered the differences between him and the known species.They had landed on a bright sunny afternoon. Well stocked flower boarders buzzed with insects, and exotic scents assailed his senses. Tristan glanced at the house from under his hood as they turned up a colonnade of trees leading to curved steps that in turn led to a double wooden door.It was a large two-storey mansion, with delicate spires on each corner. White marble glinted in the sun. Tristan stifled a whistle. Aesia's family were aristocracy, or very rich at least, compared to some of the buildings and villages they had flown over during their journey there.A few people were working.
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