"A good bitch knows she does not decide her fate." He spoke as he began to pull a bundle of material from the bag. "They know to trust their owner." U...rolling the lycra like material, he began to spread it out on the ground beside the girl. "Because their owner knows best." Her imagination was running wild as he worked outside of her vision. All the things he had done to her before flashed though her mind. All the terrible things he had done, the humiliation, the shame, the pain. But worst of. No, a second thought, he would fall desperately in love with her and become a nuisance, just wanting to see them over and over, or heaven forbid, wanting to touch them. With those broad hands, the fingertips, touching her so softly, like so, caressing (how did he know?) so softly, then firmly squeezing them (like this…) kneading their complex texture, feeling the sudden rush of warmth beneath his palms, the nipples growing so firm, so hard, he bent to take them in his lips…) She broke away from. More

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