| Author: | Jason Pinaster | ISBN: | 9781370133871 |
| Publisher: | Jason Pinaster | Publication: | October 28, 2017 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords | Language: | English |
| Author: | Jason Pinaster |
| ISBN: | 9781370133871 |
| Publisher: | Jason Pinaster |
| Publication: | October 28, 2017 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords |
| Language: | English |
The door opens, revealing shiny leggings and the edge of a latex bustier. Just right. Thin and elegant long-heeled shoes. A latex corset hugs her waist and supports her burgeoning breasts. She’s carrying a riding crop which she slaps against her left hand. She might be my new best Mistress after all!
“Who are you?” she demands.
“John Smith.”
“Your real name.”
My left thigh is stinging and I can imagine the delicious red mark she’s left. But she seems to have a deft touch; the mark wouldn’t bruise and it would fade after our session. “My mother—”
“Don’t lie to me, John Smith.” She strokes her crop up and down across the spot where she’d struck a moment before. It hurt. Surely she wouldn’t hit me in the same spot twice?!?
“Tell me,” she commands. She steps forward, turns her crop around, and presses the bottom of its handle into the top of my shoulder.
“Tell you what, mistress?” My voice is innocence. Inside my trousers, I’m as hard as her whip handle.
“There is a price to be paid for impertinence,” she warns, pressing harder. “Are you prepared to pay the price for impertinence, John Smith?”
Buy this story to find out whether her sub gives up his real name and what happens next!
The door opens, revealing shiny leggings and the edge of a latex bustier. Just right. Thin and elegant long-heeled shoes. A latex corset hugs her waist and supports her burgeoning breasts. She’s carrying a riding crop which she slaps against her left hand. She might be my new best Mistress after all!
“Who are you?” she demands.
“John Smith.”
“Your real name.”
My left thigh is stinging and I can imagine the delicious red mark she’s left. But she seems to have a deft touch; the mark wouldn’t bruise and it would fade after our session. “My mother—”
“Don’t lie to me, John Smith.” She strokes her crop up and down across the spot where she’d struck a moment before. It hurt. Surely she wouldn’t hit me in the same spot twice?!?
“Tell me,” she commands. She steps forward, turns her crop around, and presses the bottom of its handle into the top of my shoulder.
“Tell you what, mistress?” My voice is innocence. Inside my trousers, I’m as hard as her whip handle.
“There is a price to be paid for impertinence,” she warns, pressing harder. “Are you prepared to pay the price for impertinence, John Smith?”
Buy this story to find out whether her sub gives up his real name and what happens next!
