Nowhere. None of the markets had it, and I went everywhere. Unbelievable. I mean, what do they expect me to do? Feed my slave strawberries without his...favorite cream? Give me a fucking break.“Anyway, there I was, in the dairy aisle between the yogurt and the cottage cheese, frustrated and thinking, what’s a Mistress to do? Then it hit me. An epiphany, kind of like. Cream… cum… cum… cream. Perfect! Problem solved. My slave gets his special treat, after all. Now, doesn’t strawberries with cum. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I wanted them back. Iwas claiming reasonableness for myself and didn't want to lose controlof that word by letting her capture it. Too late, though. And worse,it provoked that irritating triumphal grin back onto her face. "Reasonable?" she jumped on the word. "You mean you don'tthink these shoes are reasonable? I'll have you know these heels, inmy size, are less than an inch taller than the ones I was wearing thelast time you nagged me about my. More

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