I pull out my collar and hook it on. I like to latch it tightly enough so when I draw a breath a can feel it gently constraining me, restricting my breathing. It’s a reminder of my sweet little naughty boy.
I undress and run my nails over my skin, pinching my nipples. The milk I keep for you runs down my stomach in little rivers.
Sitting back on my heels I use the wall for support and imagine you, your sexy voice firmly demanding mommy’s compliance. You’re stroking your hard cock, shiny and straining in your hands.
But have you been a good boy? What would you like momma to do for you?
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