She played out the game with her master as the mechanism did its work. When it wrapped around his throat, she ramped up the roleplay, groaning and writhing as he narrated whipping her.
“Princess.” His eyes opened, and his words came tight and raspy. “You really are, aren’t you?”
“I really am.” There was no place more suited for that admission than here. “And you really are the Lord Daran.”
“Why are you wearing a slave collar?”
She rested her hand on his wrist, while his breathing labored and caught. “To be caught, of course.”
“To…” She had to lean in. “To catch me?”
“To catch you.” She nodded, as his eyes closed. “Yes, master.”
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