Punish My Títs, Ma'am. (5)
Minutes passed, and I was thinking about the outfit Alex had on.
Her blouse was crisp white, tucked neatly into tailored trousers that hugged her hips in that arrogant, confident way she always carried herself. But it was the boots that did it.
It was black, polished and sharp. The same boots I couldn’t stop thinking about since the last time she broke me apart and rebuilt me in her image.
Her eyes caught mine. Of course they did.
"I see you staring at my boots, slút."
Her voice was smooth.
She took a step forward, then nudged the toe of her boot right against my cúnt. Right where I was already aching.
I whimpered before I could stop myself.
But I didn’t move. Not an inch. I stayed still, hands clasped behind me, jaw clenched, waiting.
Wanting. Fighting
