She breathed heavily as her wrist wrestled with the leather to break free. Her bra was wet from the sweat and her panties were dripping with juices. I pulled down her bra to expose the perky nipple on her small breast. It was dark brown like freshly cooked chocolate muffins. Her breathing had grown louder, my touch was making her mad. I kissed her upper lip in front of her perfect teeth. I looked at her face, at her hair tied in a bun, the black blindfold on her eyes. I let the ball-gag off of her mouth, she has made it wet with her saliva
“Fuck me, Sir,” She says with pleading eyes, “Teach me how to be a good slave”. She is crying, she’s desperate. I remember this voice that I hear now.
I had been listening to her voice since I was a teenager, she was my first love. I saw her from close quarters at the Radio station and I was hypnotized. I looked at her through the glass. She looked at me. I had just finished an interview with the previous RJ for my new book and had waited when I knew that she was coming. She smiled while saying something. I wasn’t able to discern what she said to the mic. I didn’t ask her when I met her afterwards.