A Million

His wife left him. He still thinks it’s his fault, poor lamb, and I go out of my way to encourage this mind set, and every month or so I punish him for letting her go.

‘A real man would have put his foot down,’ I snarl as I bring the leather tail of a whip down across his soft belly, punctuating each subsequent word with another, more ferocious slash of the whip: ‘A-real-man-keeps-his-house-in-order!’

Kenneth’s bulky torso is livid with whip marks, his breath exploding around a rubber bit that gags his mouth. ‘Yesh Mishtess,’ he chokes.

I prod his flaccid penis with the toe of my boot, ‘real men are so hard to come by,’ I sigh regretfully and bring the whip down  across his groin.

He vents a gurgled shriek.

I squat down beside his head. ‘Are you a real man?’ I ask, using a handkerchief to delicately wipe the spit from his face.

‘No, mishstress,’ he wheezes.

‘No, I expect not.’ I tweak his nose, cutting off a large part of his air supply. ‘That’s why she left you,’ I croon, ‘no one wants to sleep with a loser.’

His chest hitches up and down as he tries to breathe through his rubber bit and his feet begin to kick about desperately, but they are well secured, his arms lashed behind his back – he is completely at my mercy.

‘Right now your wife is lying beneath two hundred pounds of real man,’ I release Kenneth’s nose and leaning over him smother his face with my ample bosom, ‘real men get to be on top, Kenneth, but then you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?’

‘Mmmphhh!’ Kenneth says from between my glistening cleavage.

‘That’s right,’ I murmur. ‘That’s what you are, Kenneth, all mmmphhh and no bang.’

I’ve lassoed a length of string around his balls, stretching them to near herniation. ‘You’ve got to face the facts,’ I say as I reach down the length of him and proceed to pinch and probe his blood engorged testicles, ‘you were born to worship and I was born to be worshiped, it’s a simple equation, nothing complex about it.’ I slide forward and sit up, my arse pressed down into Kenneth’s face, then reaching down I unbuckle the rubber bit and withdraw it from his mouth.

‘I want you to worship,’ I instruct him as I slide my mound over his mouth, ‘I want you to worship ever so hard, Kenneth, and then maybe I’ll get around to pleasuring that little weasel of yours.’

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