A silver-haired fox. Quietly spoken, oozing charm and sophistication. Manners and mannerisms, that's how she thought of him. Solicitous and attentive....Tender and thoughtful. They'd started with a 'romantic date', a dimly lit, bijou bistro with red checked table cloths and candles in wine bottles, seventies retro-chic, everything a far cry from the hurly-burly fleshiness of the world of virtual hedonistic orgies.He'd held out her chair so she might sit, complimented her on her outfit choice, her. “Once again, I have to ask you…who owns this cunt, Amanda?” You were barely able whisper. On the edge and so close to cumming, only the knowledge of more punishment if you disobeyed me held your climax in check. “You do, Master.” “Be with?” I rubbed the leather strip over your clit and your pussy lips, the threat unspoken but clear to both of us. “You’re not here to be with anyone, you stupid whore. You’re here to fuck and suck whoever I let pay me for the privilege.” I lifted the black. More

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