The girl knew she had made a mistake when He threatened to dismiss her without a second thought. She crawled to Him on her belly, the whip clenched tightly between her teeth. She had asked Him to share a bit more of Himself with her, His real name. Way back when they had begun chatting, Master said He would reveal all, to allow her to know Him. Now when she pushed for it, the day before Valentine's day, He was ready to let her go. She was flabbergasted at His responses to her. That things must be kept virtual only. She cried and moaned and begged. The relationship was all to her. The connection between Master and slave that was slowly built over the months was crumbling before her eyes.

Her computer was on, the cam pointing directly at her. She rose to her knees, collar on her neck tight, and nipple clamps connected to the collar by way of chains. She would pay. Even if He wasn't there, even if He didn't watch. She had made a mistake by hoping for more than He would give. She took the small cobra tail whip in her hand, bowed her head and began whipping her tits, harder and harder. The nipple clamps popped off and she cried, sobbing, for she would never truly know His touch. Tears fell on her thighs as she bent over and covered her back with welts. She could hide these marks from her husband. He never cared to mess with her tits or back.

She had asked Master to send a shirt that smelled of His sweat and cologne, or perhaps something, anything that proclaimed her as His. She had done wrong again. She heated a small piece of metal she found in the garage with her large butane lighter. She touched it to her forearm and screamed as the flesh burned. She needed a visible mark to remind her of her mistake.