After lunch, Ananya walked to the mirror room exactly as Lord Vikram had commanded. She wore a flimsy robe with ruby studded golden collar and its long dangling leash. The heavy chain rested between her massively swollen breasts, the links occasionally catching a fresh drop of milk and making it glisten. Her body was still a furnace of need from the morning bath. Her breasts felt even heavier after the extra dose of Shatavari the maids had given her at midday, the skin stretched so tight and shiny that every breath made them ache. Warm milk leaked steadily from her hugely puffy dark nipples, running in thick rivulets down the curves and dripping onto the marble floor with soft, rhythmic sounds. Between her thighs her tiny innie was swollen and bright red, glistening with fresh arousal that coated her inner thighs and made her walk with a slight, embarrassed sway.