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 smoke from my cigarette, watching him clench around the invading sweetness, his body a vessel for my cruel whims. More, slave—beg for the exquisite torment of being my living fruit basket.
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