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leather handcuffs. His dark eyes lurk behind
a white silk blindfold.
I emerge from the dressing room, resplendent in a supple black
leather bustier. It molds to my body like a second skin, pushing my breasts
up, revealing my charming decotellage. Garters with tiny black leather
bows dangle, catching and hugging black seamed stockings to my thighs.
A G-string, also in black leather, conceals my trimmed mons. On my feet
are black suede pumps, with a stylish yet comfortable two-inch heel. My
long dark hair is down. A hint of eyeliner encircles my dark eyes; a
subtle slash of light red lipstick highlights my mouth; my long fingernails
are dusted with a polish of a natural sheen.
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 bod
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