You do it slowly in front of me, your T-shirt first thrown across the room. Then achingly slowly, your boxers, my eyes glued to what will pop out. I w...tch as it pops out, standing proud, sticking out at me. I look up at my Master and my eyes are begging him for me to touch it. “Want it don’t you, kitten? But you were late!” Is all Master says, stepping out of his boxers. I’m drooling over my gag and find myself humping thin air. Master uses his strength by grabbing me and throwing me on the bed. Her eyes frowned with question then she asked aloud, ‘Why me?’ The classical music played and echoed through the loft apartment. The soft scent of cigar smoke was in the air as it drifted from the open loft bedroom. Victor Hardway stood before the easel mounted canvas, a cigar tucked between his lips, shirtless, and a cream toned fedora with a soft tan band atop his head. His eyes focused on the canvas as in his hand was a paintbrush. Since Rosangela’s departure from the apartment, he. More

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