"Yes, sir," I nodded, moving to him, excited to see what he was hiding in his sweats. It was odd, but I had the exact same feeling as unwrapping a gif... on Christmas morning... the anticipation of a wonderful surprise. I felt my eyes glowing like a little k**s. He also lifted his ass up and I pulled his sweats to his ankles, wondering if black men ever wore underwear, as I stared at his already semi-erect cock. He too was smallish, but both of these cocks were thick... and both were still. I’ve never met him in person, but he forces me to answer Skype calls in which he has me take off my clothes and perform for him. These performances usually involve pain and always humiliation. I thought this was bad enough, but yesterday he raised the stakes higher.My Master leered at me with the glint in his eye he has when I am in pain. He talked to my tits, as he always did. “You fucking whore, hit your tits harder,” he never calls me Lilith, but then I doubt I’d like to hear my name from. More

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