They say the morning has gold in its mouth and I couldnt agree more. I always wake up feeling good: sharp, confident, in control. But this morning, theres something extra.I get ready with care, choosing a sexy, calculated look tempting, yet untouchable. My sheer stockings cling to me like a second skin. A ******. Im waiting for my man.I slowly walk down the stairs, and at the bottom, as always, my submissive awaits. On his knees. Eyes lowered. Holding a hot coffee and a cigarette.The usual routine, which involves…A nice hot meal for the slave.But today, I notice something. His eyes linger too long on my legs, his breath slightly shaky. Maybe hes forgotten his place. Or maybe the sight of me like this has unsettled him.I smile slightly. Without a word, I drive my heels into his thighs. Slow, precise, cruel. I feel him tense. Then I go higher my sharp heels press into his nipples, and my fingers follow, squeezing, punishing.He moans. But its far from over.I sit on him, putting all my weight down, smothering him beneath my body. Right where he belongs.As I hold him there, with my movements and my words, I remind him exactly who he is.And more importantly, who he will never be.?Double Shots ?? Italian Language ? Femdom Life ? LeSilla heels ? Cigarette Ashtray ? Scat Shit ? Pissing glass ? Toilet Paper ? Spitting ? Nipple Trample ??Pantyhose stocking
