“Let us see, shall we?” she says, although I am in no doubt she can see already. One fingernail scratches lightly at my lips, pushing gently to ease between them. Then I am breached. I gasp as she enters me and I know some of the juice that will condemn me has trickled onto her palm. She pushes her finger all the way in and moves it inside me in slow circles.
“Oh dear, Anoushka. You have turned out to be such a disappointment. I don’t think I have ever felt a wetter cunt on any slave – and yours is like an oven too!”
Her finger slips out before I want it to. I almost beg her to put it back in but my mind is invaded by thoughts of paddles and whips and canes.
“So, what do you think your big bottom wants me to use on it, my pretty?”
Your palm, I’m thinking, worried about firmer, thinner
