I watch your feeble fingertips trace the outline of the collar around your neck. You are owned. I enter the room, full of attitude. Your eyes follow my every move as the heels of my patent leather thigh-hi boots tap on the cold cement floor.
I am wearing sheer stockings, short black leather skirt and a black leather corset. You, well, you are naked on the cement. I notice you are staring at my right hand which is clutching my requisite small and mighty whip. I snicker and "whip" it through the air, cracking it close enough to your body that you can practically feel the air tickle your skin. My laugh humiliates you. Your head nods in acknowledgement of the tiny voice in your head that tells you for the 100th time today that you are worthless. Nothing.
I stand before you. So close, you can feel the heat of my body. I reach my hand out and you eagerly place your balls into it, as if presenting me with some precious gift. I cup them in my hand...first gently...slowly squeezing them, harder, pulling them, harder, as you beg for more. You whisper a prayer in hopes that you don't spew that stinky spunk of yours all over my long red talon nails and thereby ending the most pleasant experience in your life.
You are in the presence of Mistress Mia.
I laugh as I raise my whip and crack it again around you with startling precision. You stifle your screams. You are in ecstasy. You know this is only the beginning.
Are you man enough to submit?
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