“I like the way that brass ball feels, Master. You’ll like the way it pulls down on my c**t when you see it.”
“A bit of a tug, huh?”
“Tug? More like weighty,” she laughed. “No doubt it’s there.”
She sat again, looking into his eyes with more affection than fear or apprehension. The man was genius; he’d pulled off every trick with such amazing aplomb.
The table had been cleared while she was gone. Moments later, two dishes of ‘amazing’ arrived, set on the linen table cloth before them. The confection was creamy and sweet, chocolaty, but light, with a hint of lemon. Like nothing else that she’d ever eaten, like dessert in France, which was notoriously amazing, like tasting something the gods would eat. She wondered if it would taste so divine if she were eating it while sitting in front
