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As you kneel in your chastity device, your frustration palpable, I introduce you to my lover. The sheer size of him is enough to intimidate, but it's his role in our games that truly terrifies you. "Prepare him for me," I order, the cruel glint in my eyes showing you just how serious I am. Your role isn't to take pleasure, it's to facilitate ours, and the fact that you're doing it under duress makes it all the more delightful. As he claims me, your only task is to worship my feet, each lick and kiss only enhancing our pleasure. The taste of sweat and lust on your tongue is a stark contrast to the denial you're experiencing. When he spills his seed onto my belly, your heart sinks. You know what's coming. "Clean me," I order, and the humiliation of it all nearly overwhelms you. But you comply, for you have no choice. As you lap up the evidence of our pleasure, the reality of your predicament sets in. This is your life now, serving at my pleasure, your own satisfaction a distant memory
Happy Valentine's Day