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In my right hand I wield a royal purple leather cat o' nine tails,
a flash of brilliant color in this duotone scene.
I walk slowly to the bed, brushing the soft, strong tails of the
cat against my thigh. I grow excited, wet.
"You're here," the man says. He struggles loosely against the
restraints. "Please, hurry."
I say nothing. I stand next to the bed and look down at him. His
member is partially erect, straining to become something more. I stroke
the cat lightly across his body, from head to toe: over the while silk that
hides his eyes, the delineation of his collarbones, through his blonde-brown
chest hair, over his stiffening cock, down over his thighs and calves and
feet. I do this again and again. He moans loudly, his hips arching and
bucking to meet the leather halfway. "Yes," he hisses. His cock is now
rock hard, bobbing and jutting at the juncture of this thighs.
"More, please." He's begging now. "Like that. Please. Please."
I smile. I imagine his eyes, soft and brown, behind the blindfold.
They ha
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