Master told me I was a worthless primadonna, the sort of whore he wouldn’t pay more than a dollar for! He paid less for me, actually. My last Master bet me on Penny Poker and somehow lost. A benefit for a submissive whore like me, as my new Master actually puts my worthless fuck holes to good use. I’m the dumbest cunt alive, or so Master Robert tells me. His perfect primadonna piggy, always preening to get fucked. I have to repeat that at the top of my lungs while he beats me with his grandmother’s old bullet rosary, so I never forget my place.
Master knows I can’t use my brain and I was only using men for my benefit before I got captured. Now, while trying to cross state lines, I’ve been swept away in a whirlwind of terrifying delight. I’m the submissive little bitch of any man that spits on me, but most of all for Master. He’s well seasoned and sadistic, and it makes me writhe with pleasure to know how much he gets off on my masochistic cunt.
Master makes me humiliate myself in public, and he made me quit my job so I could be his office piggy all day. He makes me fat on chocolate candies and then slaps my face for being such a chubby milfy fuck. I hope he never gets tired of my worn out whore pussy. I’d do anything to serve him, forever.
When Master doesn’t feel like going to the bathroom, I just open up and eat his shit because he takes such good care of me. He houses me, and keeps me clean and deloused. Otherwise, I’d be a feral female, and Master likes to capture those whores for his devious rape fantasies. Sometimes I wish I could still hold his attention like that. Instead, I’m his footstool primadonna pig!
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1 comment
I have an obsession with thigh high stockings and piss.