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Selma was at her computer waiting for Miri to log on. She had surveillance photos of Miri hanging all around her desk. This was customary with an acquisition, but this one was different. Miri was all hers. She felt her stomach tighten. She didn’t know how much longer she could wait.

One of her fingers caressed a photo of Miri jogging. Her dark hair was pulled back and she was wearing a tank top with running shorts that had her university’s acronym scrawled across the back. The picture was black and white, but she knew the shorts were grey. They hugged her curves perfectly. Selma asked her usual PI to get as close a shot as possible and Miri’s face looked pained as her run was testing her endurance level.

This was Selma’s favorite picture. It was a face that she would see a lot with Miri. She would test her endurance more than Miri ever could with any jog, aerobics, or spin class. Selma looked over at the empty cage sitting in the corner. Miri would soon fill that cage.

Soon she would have Miri in chains, a collar hugging her throat, looking out the bars with those delicious full lips sucking on a ball gag. Her arms would be behind her and she would probably be begging Selma with her eyes to let her cum. Selma looked at that strap-on hanging on the wall above the cage and fantasized about walking over to it while little Miri watched from the cage with sexual angst. She would make Miri cum over and over with that strap-on. She knew how to use a penis better than most men.

Fictie en literatuur
9 juli
Ana Adair

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