I remember the soft, diffused light filtering through the window, casting a gentle glow over the patterned duvet. The chain lay casually across the bed, a subtle hint of the dynamics at play. I was on top, my leopard print thong a stark contrast against his bare skin. His shoulders and upper torso were visible, a testament to the intensity of the moment. I leaned forward, my arms draped over his back, feeling the weight of my authority. ‘You’ve cum already?’ I asked, my voice laced with a mix of amusement and command. ‘That’s nice. Get dressed and fuck off then, dearie. No refunds. Even if it did only take you 10 seconds. You still pay full price for my time and attention.’ The words hung in the air, a reminder of the power I held in that room.
What Does It Take to Satisfy a Hotwife?
The question lingers, a challenge to those who dare to enter my world. It’s not just about the act; it’s about the experience, the connection, the respect. I demand it, and I get it. The room was filled with a palpable tension, a mix of desire and dominance. The soft lighting and the casual arrangement of the chain added to the atmosphere, a silent promise of more to come. But for now, the lesson was clear: my time and attention come at a price, and it’s one that must be paid in full, regardless of the duration. This is my game, and I set the rules. And in this moment, I was the one in control, the one who decided when and how the price would be paid.
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