Francie 1844-332-2639 xXx 208
He’s been bad. My little miniature man. He’s about the size of my pinkie nail. You would think a boy that small would be no problem at all, but he hasn’t accepted his fate as my tiny, shrunken plaything. He keeps trying to escape and run away from me. Honestly, it makes me more sad than mad. I love him, and he’s mine. I’m going to keep him, and the sooner he embraces his fate and loves me back, the better we’ll get along.
I can not tolerate his behavior, though, so I’m putting him on bra duty punishment until he comes around. His punishment is all prepped, my comfortable front-clasping bra is laid out on the dining room table. The clasp in it had broken a while back, but I saved the bra, knowing I’d have a purpose for it someday. My tiny plaything is in a glass vial, pounding away at the wall and screaming at a useless pitch my ears can’t detect because of his size. All I need now is the super glue.
Bra Duty Punishment
With the little glue tube in one hand, I use mt thumb to pop the top off of my little toy’s vial and dump him out onto the table. Immediately, he pushes himself up and scrambles as if he’ll run. The table must feel like an endless desert at his size. No hope in sight, but still he runs. I sigh, and the dark shadow of my hand looms over him long before my index finger pins him to the table’s surface. His knees buckle so easily under the immense pressure, then the pads of my fingers pinch together around his minuscule body to pluck him up and press him between the two cups of my bra.
“You aren’t going anywhere. Ever.” My giant face grins down at him, and I flatten out his little palm to add a drop of glue to it, then I make him grasp the fabric. I hold his little hand closed for thirty seconds so the glue will do its job, then I stretch out his arm on the other side and repeat the process. Now my tiny plaything will make a perfect bra clasp.
Stretched Wide
I undress while he struggles to remove his hands. It’s impossible. The glue is made for fabric and wardrobe emergencies. It’s stronger than God. Picking up the bra, I stretch it over my head and pinch at the underwire to jiggle the bra and fill the cups with my tits. Looking down, I see my new bra clasp straining because my adjustment has pulled its tiny arms out wider. His face is pulled into a painful grimace, but he’s so small I can’t hear the crying; he’s surely screaming out.
Shouldn’t have tried to leave me, little toy.
Next, I throw on my T-shirt and head out of the house for a day of running errands around the city.
Francie 1844-332-2639 xXx 208
https://phonesexcandy.com/whimpers-francie