Breath
I arrive at my Mistress’ house at 9am and she’s waiting for me at the door looking intimidating. Dressed in knee-high boots, stockings, black leather skirt and a tight black corset, her breasts trying to escape from the tight confines of the corset and her long blonde hair in a ponytail, with her impossibly long eye lashes and luscious red lips, she is the picture of power and control. As I walk past her, she catches the cheek of my arse hard with her paddle, the sound of the leather on my jeans echoes around the hallway. ...