My friend once told me I always seem to have a secret smile, a glow about me, an aura of happiness. She asked what I secret was. I wiggled on my seat – a white painted wooden chair – and nibbled on my shortbread cookie. What she didn’t know was that beneath this pretty white dress, my ass was bright red, my panties soaked with His cum – panties I had to “pay” for the privilege of weary by leaving the bra at home. My bar nipples, still elongated and tender thanks to the suction cups he’d attached for twenty minutes this morning, practically ripped a hole in the thin dress. And, just in case I forgot about Him, the light weight golden chain locked around my waist kissed my skin with coolness.

“I know I’m loved,” I answered.