Sometimes it would be my hand caressing a smooth silky thigh, or a swollen nipple between two of my fingers, or maybe my erect manhood slipping betwee... russet folds of sweet flesh as I sank in to her to the hilt. But always the same feeling of total domination and complete helplessness and extreme pleasure centered at my crotch. Then the fatigue began to set in. At first it was just difficult to wake up in the mornings. I would feel bleary, tired and used up, like I'd been out partying all. I wrap my lips around his shaft, bobbing my head down until my nose is pressed hard into his pubes. I’ve never been good at estimating length, but I’m glad I can accommodate the Captain’s cock without it traveling down my throat. I can do it. All women should know how. But it’s not optimum. I keep my hands away from it, though I urgently want to grasp and rub it. Hands-free has been drilled into me by my Master, through many, many painful lessons. Suddenly I remember a session at the glory hole. More

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