Steamy Diaries
he stammered.
Shelly rose from her chair and sauntered over to him, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She traced a finger down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed at her touch. "Good boy," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.
She stepped back and surveyed her work. The dungeon was her pride and joy, a place where she could let her darkest fantasies run wild. Whips, chains, and other assorted toys lined the walls, each one carefully selected for its ability to inflict pain and pleasure in equal measure.