The vines that held me prisoner seemed to be pulsing against my flesh. I felt them brushing against my swollen nipples and my pleasure nub and between...my inflamed lips exciting me into a sexual throe that felt like a continuation of my dream. Lifting my head as best as I could I watched as a knotted vine slithered slowly between the vee of my spread legs towards my womanhood. It ended in a bulbous fixture, not unlike the head of a penis, that pulsed like a beating heart. I could see purplish. My master, even! Just thinking about that kinda pisses me off, but makes my pussy tingle too. I feel so silly sitting here wearing nothing but a bikini and high heels, plus his collar and ring, but somehow, for him, I'm willing. Hell, I'm sitting next to a walking, talking sex goddess, and I know perfectly well that he's royally fucking her even more often than me, and yet I feel more loved and feminine and womanly with him than I ever did with any of my old boyfriends! Damn that charming. More

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