“Up on the bed.”

Simple instruction, easily carried out. Even easier with a single tug on Her leash.

“On your back, pet.”

Before seeing only the ceiling… In the moonlight through the curtain, a swish of pale rubber hanging between Her. Between glances, a white sheath. Oiled. Powerful. Unnatural.

“Legs up.”

No need to waste time uttering a reply to obey. Unable to look Her in the eye all the while. Humiliation does that.

She held the back of each calf firmly. Penetration that would lead Nature to believe they belonged in each other’s bodies. Silence… apart from the lubricant at work. The beating of Her perfectly tanned lap. Into it. Removing a layer of whatever was left of it’s manliness… with every hit.

“How does it feel to know Mistress is more of a Man than you?”

No answer. In it’s mind? ‘Don’t moan. Don’t sigh, groan or gasp. You’re just a thing. Her toy. And objects don’t make sound. Just lie still, and take it. Like a boi. Exactly as you deserve.’ She told it as much between thrusts. Smiling at it’s useless pleasure. Caged and flashing in the mostly dark. Flopping in Mimicry. To the rhythm of Her dance.

A fog, it recalled being on it’s knees in the corner. Hands cuffed. Watching Her in a similar position to the one it was now in. Writhing, moaning, sweating. Under Him. He had terrified it.

“What’s it like with a real Man, Mistress?” It had been allowed to ask.

“You’ll find out many times, pet…” She’d promised.

She’d kept Her word.

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