her train of thought was broken by Master's shadow falling across the cage. she gripped the bars and braced herself as He casually hooked the ring at the top of the cage and carried it across the room to His Desk. When He picked her up like this in the cage, she was always reminded of a cable car or ski lift ascent, the inital swoop followed by a steady swaying, then a stomach in the throat landing as He places it on the Desktop.
Master unlocks and opens the cage, then motions to her...
"Into the harness love"
He had obtained a desk toy of some sort that consisted of a chrome framework, cube shaped, and had modified it, adding silver necklace chains attached to the framework and a small harness, as well as wrist and ankle clasps. The chains were adjustable, so the harness and manacles were slack enough for her to put on herself.
He watches with a slight smile as the tiny girl steps carefully out of the birdcage and pads across the green felt desk blotter, a naked living doll navigating around pencils, a ruler, and other assorted odds and ends.
As she nears the suspension toy, there are more of the Giant's items laying about on the Desktop, these not so ordinary, some of which she didn't recognize... but some of the others-- micro alligator clips... tweezers... a tongue depessor... a Q-tip... a glass swizzle stick... electrical tape... she was no stranger to these and her pulse quickened, her nipples, ass and sex all aching with the echo of remembered pain and pleasure.
the tiny slave girl blushes and quickly steps into the harness, latching the small velcro closures and the metal circlets on her slim wrists and ankles. When she was finished, she stood in the center of the frame, chains hanging loosely from her wrists, ankles and the harness. Humming quietly to himself, the Giant tugs on the loose ends of the chains, taking up the slack and making minor adjustments until she was suspended in the center of the chrome framework, spread eagle and accessible from every direction, displayed like some kind of rare butterfly.
There were times when she was being punished that He would just leave her that way on his desk... toying with her while he discussed business on the phone with one of the other Members... but those were just punishments... a correction was a much more involved process. During a correction, Master worked on her with the intensity of a hobbyist trimming a Bonsai tree... or building a ship in a bottle. In a way, she _was_ His hobby... and the corrections were just a necessary part of tending to His craft.
Master folds his Hands and leans closer to the suspended living doll, shaking his head as if saddened...
"Such an intelligent girl...", He muses, "...but such a slave to compulsion."
"oh no master!" she quickly chirps... immediately seeing the trap he's laying for her and desperately trying to avoid it... "i'm a slave to you and you alone master!"
"Ahhhh... but which call did you answer love? When I strictly forbade it?" the Giant asks quietly.
The little slavegirl hangs her head in shame, her luxurious raven hair cascading over one side of her tiny face... she can't deny that she disobeyed him...
"oh master... please forgive me..." she moans, her voice barely audible at this size, "you know my will is weak... you've seen my profile..."
Like most of the slaves, she had once been a candidate for Membership... but had failed to make the final cut. The Organisation was constantly on the lookout for new talent with high IQ's and the will to act with ruthless efficiency when called upon. To this end, the cabal had worked diligently behind the scenes to have standardized testing mandated for primary and college level students, and had been instrumental in the type of testing that was employed. They had virtually unlimited access to the test results and regularly mined the data for suitable candidates.
When one was found, a subtle process of indoctrination was begun-- the educational systems of all the major world powers were riddled with Members in various capacities.
A suitable 'mentor' was maneuvered into a position of access-- a trusted guidance counselor... a friendly instructor for one of the classes... club sponsors... whatever gave them the opportunity to apply subtle pressure... directing the young prospect's ways of thinking to those that fit the Organisation's dogma.
Those that failed the first cut, usually for resisting the indoctrination process or intelligence barriers not detected in the tests, were quietly removed from the equation-- a tragic accident... an acute illness...or simply disappeared. The Organisation did not tolerate competition and denied their enemies the opportunity to use the cast-offs against them.
Those candidates that made the first cut were ultimately tested when they reached young adulthood-- a crisis situation was arranged, one that usually required quick thinking and remorseless decison making in a split second. Those that hesitated or completely froze up were usually 'rescued' from the crisis test by the nearby Observers that monitored the tests... nicknamed "Dark Angels", they neutralised whatever danger or threat had been arranged, only to cart the failures off, more 'runaways' and 'missing persons' for the milk cartons, the missing taken as slaves and property of the cabal, to be used as the Membership saw fit.
Once she had asked Master why the Organisation went to such lengths to save these highly intelligent but weak willed candidates for slavery, and He had laughed aloud, then answered as if it were a self evident truth--
"Well love, what's more useless than a _stupid_ slave?"
Hanging there suspended in a mere desk toy, her Master frowning at her words of defense, she cursed her weakness, wishing she had been just a bit more willful... so that she could better serve and please Master. The thought of missing the first cut or being killed in the crisis test never crossed her mind-- her life as Master's toy had so ingrained the idea of being a slave that she thought only in those terms.
"That sounds like an excuse to me love", Master replies sadly, bringing her back from her reverie... "and you know how much I abhor excuses."
His Fingers loom close to her, the alligator clip open as it homes in on her miniature tit, clamping down and making her squirm and thrash with pain...
Master's Hand curls around her slender waist, hot and moist as it grips her firmly... immobilizing her so he can apply the next clip to her other tit... and a third is clipped onto the lips of her tiny pussy. He releases her and watches intently as she shudders in the framework... all three clips bobbing obscenely as her doll body flexes in the restraints, her tiny voice screaming and begging for the clips to be removed. Master simply smiles and turns over a small brass hourglass, watching her flail about as the grains of sand mark out her time of agony.
In a few minutes, the hourglass is spent, and her struggles have subsided a bit. Master's Fingers deftly pluck each of the tormenting clips from her tiny sweat sheened body, then He waits patiently for her barely audible sobs to fade.