She looked away from me, humiliated and angry that she was being outplayed by an amateur, and unable to urinate under the intrusion of my harsh staring eyes. Even though I had just ejaculated a few minutes ago, I became aroused waiting for her to go. My p***s had a mind of its own, apparently without a spiritual or moral compass. Her once proud and statuesque breasts had become languid and withdrawn, attempting to hide in plain sight from the intensity of my glare. I remembered what the Goddess had said after I made my first steps toward dominance by ripping her blouse open: “Not only are you allowed to do it, but it’s your responsibility to do it, if you want to, as you say, “Claim what’s mine.” She had given me ownership over her lovely, glorious bus and elegantly curved labia. Guided by
