Chapter Thirty-Two
Mrs. Dalton
My gigolo Anthony orally works to pay homage to the inside of my thigh. I stand over him with a crop assuring that his expensive but rather unskilled tongue continues its endeavors. For what I pay, I want the most fervent of attention.
Having just showered, I have a towel wrapped about my torso. When Anthony’s pink and wet appendage encroaches my pubes, barely covered from sight by the hem of the large bath towel, I will blindfold him and sit on his face. He’s a good f**k but I am tired from an afternoon of play and therefore my desire for physical activity is limited.
The doorman lies firmly bound in the den. I lured him to the apartment and finally wreaked my revenge for that episode with Ted and the pro Dom. It seems Mr. Doorman has done wors
