Naturally the answer to that last question is not at all, at least in regard to the needs of obedience. Face flaming, c**k throbbing ever harder, I mince over and take Amy’s place sitting sexily on the bed. Still I hesitate before her relishing grin, imagining the public ignominy both preceding and proceeding from this watershed evening.
“Go on, b***h! Use it before you lose it. I’m within my rights as your owner to take that filthy toy away at any time. Test me too much and I promise I will.”
Why does this hideous (and all too credible) threat suddenly ignite my foundational shame-guilt-lust like little else yet? Am I already acknowledging the inevitability of that ultimate emasculation? Let’s just assume I’m still hooked on the thrill of my gorgeous older cousin-playmate-babysitter dom
