Languages: English
Location: Canada
Interested In: Women, Men, Couples, Trans
Age: 56
Body Type: Normal
Although she loves the ideas of it, all she wants to do is use him and abuse him. He has his hands full at the moment. From the outside, she can see that the nearby passengers are oblivious to her presence, enjoying the view. She then goes and crouches down in the seat, while he is oblivious to her presence, and calmly proceeds to put her clothes in a drawer. She picks up the riding crop that she brought with her and moves behind him to wrap her arms around his neck. A rough hand touches her ass as she reacts instinctively to the touch. He is annoyed, but he remains silent as he contemplates her punishment. She is about to be taken to the Camelot Room, but she is stopped by the Royal Enforcer. She drops the crop, and he looks angrily at her. He's angry. The next thing she notices is that the other horses have dispersed. Her Master is silent. He's not surprised by her passive aggressive behavior. As she waits for his next sentence, she becomes aware of the strange eyes peeping around the corners of her eyes. What are they looking at? It's a dark, forbidding room.
She stifles a smile, knowing that he can't be angry with her. She's relieved that he's right, that she won't be punished. However, she remains patient. Why? She bothers herself to lift her head to check the room. He returns, but this time he commands her to kneel, to open her mouth. She complies. He'll pay for this. She hears the silverware breaking. The coffee table is on the table. It stands for nothing. She thinks it was a good thing she didn't use the cuffs. Hands on the table move to her shoulders, resting there in what she thinks is a reinforced headlock. She finds herself kneeling, with her head bowed. A blindfold covers her eyes. She's still in the dark. She hears several muffled words, spoken in a quiet yet confident voice, "Kneel." She does.
She feels her skirt being raised suddenly, then dropped. A flush runs down her right leg. The hair on her legs pulled back sharply. She is passed out. No pulse. She feels his hands moving over her, smoothing the back of her knees, spreading them apart. "Good girl. Nod your head." She does. He tells her to turn back toward the center of the room. It's a difficult task, with her bunched hair, and her short skirts. He reaches out and touches her gently on her neck, running his fingers over her collarbone. A soft feather touches her ear. He tells her to be quiet. Not so much a command as a warning. She listens..
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