My Footstool
I search the room for My footstool in the dimly lit room. Light leaking in through the sheer curtain highlighting My form. A stool for My feet is what I need. For that I know you are ready and eager to comply.
“Come here pet,” you hear Me call from the living room. I have beckoned you. you crawl towards the direction My voice has come from, anxiously looking for Me. you see Me there, sitting on the couch; My summer dress moving in the faint breeze flowing through the room. My legs covered in a pair of sheer nylons, held up by a white lace garter. It’s My bright red peep-toe heels that really catch your attention. you sit there, like a dog, on all fours as you stare at My crossed legs… mesmerized by Me tapping My shoe in the air.
“Pet! Stop staring and come here now!” I say pointing at the ground beside My feet. you continue to crawl over on your hands and knees, looking up at Me. I lean over. Sliding My two fingers into the ring of your collar I pull; jerking you towards Me, almost knocking you off balance.
…. to be continued for subs only
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