In the flickering glow of the menu board, I lead my collared pet through the throng of vanilla mortals, his leash invisible but taut in my grip. “Beg for our feast,” I whisper, my stiletto heel pressing his calf as he stammers the order, vibrator buzzing remotely in his shame. Oblivious cashiers hand over trays; we claim a booth where he kneels beneath, lapping spills from my fingers, body quivering under my sadistic gaze. Public torment fuels my ecstasy, his submission my ultimate Big Mac.
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