L’Arch de Triomphe dans le metro.
My boy hasn’t come since April 26—he disappointed me greatly on that particularly Saturday and caused a big problem for me at a dinner party.
I’ve been tormenting him ever since. Finally, last night I allowed him some measure of relief, so I removed his device and smashed his swollen testicles thusly for 8 straight minutes, which left about a teaspoon of splooge on the floor for him to consume before lockdown again. He thanked me profusely of course.
Hanging with my bull lover (my tattoo artist) and my slave husband chastity footcuck. Life’s good right now.
While I’ve had 24 orgasms this month at your expense, and you’ve had none, you’re belt’s staying on for another month as I’m extremely disappointed in your maid service last night at Jane’s; you embarrassed Me. I will now beat your buttocks until it blisters and you’re openly crying.
My chastised slave husband’s required to perform 45 minutes of cardio per day to stay fit for My service and enjoyment, so my cruel sister Dawn likes to take her turn supervising when she visits, and she always insists on feeing my splooge-filled boy a half tab of Cialis before making him watch porn the entire time he’s put through his paces. It gets her so horny seeing his erect locked cock bouncing in the breeze—I can hear her coming from three rooms away…