A door opens…a slight breeze…and you’re gone. Indian sex I see our waiter a few tables away yet, taking orders for wine, and stop,
but my hand is cupping against the front of your panty clad entrance, and
my middle finger slides down and presses them in gently. I step behind you again, and without preamble, the ravaging of your most
secret places begins anew. I contracted with some men who have a
certain artistic bent to their remodeling work. And a submissive will take whatever is
dealt her, knowing that the Master will not harm her unduly, for her safe
word will always be her way out. I cry out, struggling for freedom. Button-hooked. “Mercy,” I murmur softly as I mold my body to yours… I brace myself against your
shoulders. I feel your hands on my calf…holding me in place…inserting the hook
into the butter-soft leather again and again.
