Diana 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 248
When our paths first crossed, I could sense it in him, the need to be dominated, controlled, owned. He played the part of a powerful man alright, but his eyes betrayed him. They craved to be mastered. And so I made my move, drawing him in with honeyed words and veiled promises. He came to me of his own free will, thinking he’d find salve for his haughty desires as he did with all else in his life. But I had other plans for him.
Now he kneels before me, wrists bound, back striped raw from my crop. I walk around him in wide, slow circles, inspecting my pet. He shivers and quakes but dares not move, not unless I allow it. I am his Mistress and he is but a slave, a toy to be used. I trace a finger down his cheek and he leans into my touch, mewling softly. Already he forgets his place, the brat. I seize his hair and wrench his head back, forcing him to meet my gaze.
