You’re bent over the kitchen counter, ass bare and jeans straining against your upper thighs while you spread your legs as wide as they’ll go against the makeshift constraint.
“How long until your friends get here?” I ask you.
“Five minutes if they’re on time, Mistress.”
“Oh, plenty of time.” I say while grabbing the bottle of lube from the counter. “No coming before I tell you to.”
“Yes, Mistress.” You’re panting hard and I haven’t even touched you yet.
I tug...