You Do Not Believe
I recline on the plush sofa, my thigh-high leather boots crossed, gloved hand delving into the bowl of crimson cherries. My worthless pet kneels before me, ass arched high, trembling as I force each juicy fruit deeper into his tight, quivering hole. He whimpers, stretched and filled, his degradation fueling my sadistic delight. I exhale … You Do Not Believe