Smooth, silk encased legs as he sat. He marveled at how automatic these simple feminine gestures had become to him. Only a short year ago had you even...suggested to justine that he would be sitting in a woman's bathroom, dressed not in jeans as might be expected of a young man but, as a frilly, fetishtic, French maid frothing in lace, and wobbling on sky high heels, having just cleaned his mistress' bathroom, he would have taken a swing at your chin and laughed at your injured jaw. That of. Or at least as safe as we’ve ever been, which ain’t saying much.”His claw has arrived close to one of my nipples now. He touches it experimentally with the sharp point. I shiver. He smiles. “Sensitive tits, huh? I like that in a man.”He positions his claws around the areola, pricking just enough to draw blood. “Now listen, and listen good. If you behave well, I can free up one of your arms so that it’s on a short chain. That way, you can reach the water bottle I’ve got on a shelf under. More

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