Abigail’s Weakness

As she feels his weight press down on her back, the air rushes from her lungs, and she hears his voice, low and commanding. "On a scale of 1-10, where's your threshold now, my dirty girl?" With a low moan, she musters just enough energy to turn her head and look into her Sir's eyes, her gaze a mix of submission and anticipation. "I'm at a 9, my Sir," she whispers, her voice barely audible. Her collar, a symbol of her ownership, is securely fastened around her neck, a constant reminder of her belonging. She belongs to him, her mind, body, and soul his to do with exactly as he wishes. She has no voice, no choice, and above all things, she must obey him. Read more