slaveerin77
Posts: 2
Joined: 1/3/2015
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He looked at me with only a glance and I was His. With only a glance, He was my Master in every way possible and I was His slave. I was His willing victim, His prized property, His pride and joy. Head lowered, I went to Him and fell into a bow before Him. I waited for Him to acknowledge my grace as I lowered my head near His boots, so close I could smell the leather on His boots. He nudged my face with His boot and I moaned out a plea to show my submission. He chuckled and indulged my desire. I began to lick the hard leather, breathing in the smell. I purred as I rubbed my face against His boots and used my tongue to clean them, to make love to them. I was panting as He pulled me up by my hair, forcing me to stand before Him. He placed me on the St. Andrew’s cross, stroking my body, His body really, all the while whispering those wicked whispers that makes my pussy wet and throbbing. My last clear thought before He cuffed me to the cross that He was going to make me suffer and wait, wait for the feel of Him inside me again. It has been way too long.
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