What does it mean to wear My collar? It means to be as subservient and supplementary to Me as one humanly can. If I want to stomp around the b*tch with My boots, I will do that. I want to hog tie it and flog it while it is helplessly laying there like a practice lump, that is going to happen. How long can this sl*ve hold his breath under the glorious *ss of his Mistress? Lets find out!

I love a good l*ttle b*tch, and this one is one of My favorites to use.

Scene One "Boot Trampled B*tch"

Sl*ves do not think, sl*ves do. This sl*ve makes the mistake of thinking, how ridiculous! I have declared him dirt today and he will be the dirt that I walk on until I say otherwise. he will lay and bear My weight crushing his weak body beneath Me until I have had My fill with climbing him like an inanimate object. If I choose to crush his head with My leather boot or sm*thering him indefinitely, so be it.

Scene Two "Sm*thered and Humiliated"

After crushing My sl*ve's head under My silky leggings clad *ss for more than two minutes I decide it is time to play with the rope. First the sl*ve needs to be prepared with a series of stretches. Stretching before heavy b*ndage is important, and this goofy idiot fumbles through the whole thing like a an awkward hat rack attempting to undo years of poor exercise choices. What a schmuck, more trampling for him, just for good measure!

Scene Three "Fl*gging My Prison B*tch"

How many times do I have to flog this sl*ve until he is a respectable member of society? Too many to count, clearly. This uncouth stump gets bound up like a b*tch and flogged bl*ck and bl*e. No amount of moaning and crying will deter Me from punishing him hard. In fact, his cries beguile Me. I love every second of his punishment.

Scene Four "Bound Sm*thered B*tch"

After hours of t*rment I am not likely to relent this sl*ve's penance. I am having too much fun crushing his head into My barely dressed *ss. I know he can see My thong through the thin silky leggings. I want him to see what he is too meager for before it crushes him like the worm he is. Having trouble breathing? Good! Clean air is for Princesses. Peasants like him get whatever is left from the other side!

An Evening with My b*tch