The smell of sex mingling with strawberry-scented lube lingered in the playroom. Amongst the sharp smell, the abrupt sound of shoes clicking onto hard wood panelling echoed against the ashen walls.
A beautiful sight for The Master was splayed on Saint Andrew's cross; pleasingly roped down was a small, petite woman with cervacious hips and a nice head of hair braided down her back.
"Slut, what have we here?" The strong man gracefully strode over and ran his hands over the submissive's shaking frame. "Your training is almost done, whore, but before we continue this, I want you to meet someone."
"Yes, Master?" She replied quietly, excitement building up in her body. Kyra knew she needed this part of training, to know what her sub may feel, may desire or want.
This is the only way to truly understand. You have to put yourself in their shoes.
The farthest door clicked open and the familiar sound of steady crawling filled the dank room.
"A treat, slut. We will see if you truly are worthy of the title of Ms. Domme."
YOU ARE READING
Ms. Domme
RomanceA world full of deception, lies, and heartbreak finds peace in the mind of realism.
