December 9th


Lustful Letters by Maggie Adams

The poor boy practically tripped over his own feet running to kneel before me. He leaned in, tongue out, but I flicked it forcefully with my fingers, pulling his hair so he was forced to look up at me. “If I am a bitch, boy, then you are a dog!”
His eyes widened as he recalled his earlier comment. He started to sputter a lame excuse, but I slapped him hard, the sound echoing off the walls. “Kneeling at my feet is your proper place.” I tugged his head forward between my legs. “Know your Mistress’ scent.”
I felt his breath upon my thighs. I sensed his tension, his need. It matched my own, but he must know who was in charge. He leaned closer, the tip of his tongue touched my clitoris. I jerked him back, forcing him to look into my eyes. “Do you dare?” I growled.
I shoved him sideways and he fell back. I hopped off the table, stepping close to his face and glancing at his massive erection. I wanted that; my pussy pulsed and my cream dripped along my thigh. But rules must be adhered to.
“Lick my shoe and know who your Mistress is and where you belong. You only get what I wish to give you, dog.”




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