My Personal Sissy Boy: Bound, Trained, and Delighted
Your Mistress, a vision of power and control, leads you to the center of the room, a platform designed for your humiliation and pleasure. She orders you to kneel, to present yourself to her. She runs a leather crop along your back, your ass, your thighs, marking your skin with trails of fire. She commands you to suck her fingers, to taste her, to crave her. You comply, hungry for her touch, her taste. She laughs, a low, sultry sound, delighted by your eagerness. She unzips her catsuit, revealing her glistening pussy. "Lick," she commands, and you do, eagerly, hungrily, your tongue exploring her folds, tasting her desire. She grinds against your face, her pleasure mounting, until she pulls away, leaving you panting, desperate for more. "Not yet, my pet," she whispers, her voice a promise of the delights to come. "Your training has just begun."