Slashed up the left side to her thigh, the dress revealed a bare leg rendered shapely by the nail like spikes of her heels. She stopped in the entranc... and surveyed the room. I did not look at her directly. I had so positioned myself that I could watch the entrance in the mirror behind the bar. I nursed my gin and tonic, occasionally glancing at the Cartier Tank on my left wrist. It was not a real Cartier but would pass for it to anyone but an expert. There had been no point in squandering my. “What cup size are these breasts?”She whispers, barely audible, “I wear a D-cup.”“Master.”She does not respond to my prompt and I roughly grip her right nipple. She jumps and my lips feel her tears renew down her face.“I ... I wear a D-cup, Master.”I release my grip and wipe away the pain from her breast. I turn to the male slave.“She is pretty, attached to my collar, with her tits in my hand. Don’t you agree, Cockslave?”He glares at me. It is a man’s instinct to be possessive of his woman, to. More

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