Overcast day, and Mistress decides it's time to whip out Her mighty laptop, and do what everyone else does these days. Sit at a coffee shop, watching others in their bubbles. Guess at what they're really like. Make up stories about their worlds, while I sip My steaming tea.
Pardon, a sweet little hippy chick, wearing snug tights that might just reveal if she shaves tween those thighs…. Just wandered up to the counter to buy her coffee. Curious. One of those attractive yet forgettable sights.
Today a slave with the darkest skin (if his words match his dermis) called, aching for My warmth. I smiled a bit when he said, with choked up voice and such sincerity, "I want to wrap my arms around your thighs and squeeze the juice right out of you." See a man like that is designed for My work. Throbbing with want and seeking the scent.
I taunted him into such a frenzy, letting him near without sealing the deal. He gasped and shuttered, almost crying in ache. Yes. Yes.
He reached a destination after a bit of work, predictably. And I took what was mine, yet again.
I am pleased.
