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“Sir,” I purred, my voice low and husky just as instructed. “I’ve been bad, haven’t I?” I arched my back in exaggerated submission, the crimson skirt riding up to expose my bare thighs.
My “master,” an imposing figure in his sixties with a greying beard sprinkled with stubble, chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Indeed, my little good girl. But fear not, for a stern discipline is just what you need.”