Dorothy’s panties would moisten when she heard My voice. It gave her hope that her devotion to the unholy orgasm would find releases perverse. Dorothy is known by other names which others call when they need her, but she preferred to hear the sound of My voice telling her its time to leave her space and float in Mine. Dorothy was very good at all she did but I made her an even better piece of prime real estate when swimming seeds of pure protein could find their way into holes dripping wet. Under foot was a male she began to despise for being such a failure at everything he did, especially when it came to the bedroom. Under foot was a worthless, limp, and quite foul being who had finally learned what it was to be kept in place.
Dorothy has a fine imagination which she colors in the prettiest of layers in her sensually aggressive attire. It takes a girl time to dress, to make herself look like the most desired flower in the garden, to show her valley is soaking wet from rivers of want that never found a dam. Lace licks her supple breasts with each step she takes and she loves the way it kisses her nipples. A slip to hide her bra, another article of clothing to be torn off when the heat rises. Panties which are so sheer one can taste her nectar through the fine silk strands which have been woven in the softest way. Panties he will only see when he washes them by hand the night after she makes them messy. Dorothy loves the variations of shades of the rainbows hose offers, and she adorns her long legs with the most delicious of hues to show Me how hot she burns, or how bad she’s been. It takes a girl time to dress, and she wants that time well spent. Dorothy demands much more than just ten minutes, she wants all night long.
You can almost hear him whimper now as she offers the collar. You can almost feel his heart race as she makes him see his future, one he can’t handle yet one he can’t live without. A collar he’ll wear always, like the bands exchanged when Dorothy wore all white and expected a Man. Now Dorothy understands she has nothing more than a puppy, and from this moment on the dog will be useful. But then again, Dorothy has a sex life now. Fingers are replaced by Dick she’s not married to. The want of being filled has been replaced by the sensations of hurt which make her cum harder than when she gave birth. Dorothy’s bed now smells of prey being consumed, the stale air has been swept away because Dorothy has now come home. In the music of orgasmic Black and white.
Its time for you to collar your dog. Its time for you to find bliss in the want of a Man. Its time for you to forsake all that was said at the altar of forever, the contract which said “in sickness and in health…”, but never said that a girl should whither because her male can’t get it up long enough to make a girl soar. The male you married doesn’t live up to the obligations the marriage bed demands. A small cage in the basement with a bowl for water and a bowl for food is all he deserves.
Dorothy gets off knowing she can make her nasty little bitch bark and wag its tail on command. Dorothy has found a reason to hurt the very thing which she wanted to love and I allow her to grow in this depraved union between herself and the dog she keeps under foot. A girl just wants to be devious. And look pretty being bad.
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